On the Benefits of Useless Wings
by Crystal Kira
Summary: Feliciano Vargas, head medic of his corps, was just the "fluffwing," bullied and labeled useless by most. He'd always known he was a terrible flier, but when he crashed into Ivan Braginski, his commanding officer, he was sure his useless wings had gotten him into major trouble. But Ivan helps him to realize how those wings could have some benefits, after all. RusIta, wing!verse AU.
1. Crash

**A/N: This is a new project I'm excited about, I hope I've done well with the start!**

**I'll assume a lot of you are readers from Shatter, and although it's not the same pairing, I hope it's enjoyable nonetheless!**

**On to the story!**

* * *

_The children jeered at the smallest child as they flew about, taunting the little one to come up and join them._

_Feliciano faltered and weakly tried to fly up to meet them, but he clumsily teetered and ended up crashing right back into the earth._

_The children laughed, and Feliciano sat up shakily, his fluffy wings shamefully tucking back in close to him, where no one could see how useless they were._

"_Haha, nice try, fluffy! But you're supposed to go __**up**__, you know?" one laughed. Feliciano colored red in shame and hid slightly beneath his wings._

"_Don't bother talking to him, Will, he's a dumb fluffwing anyway. It's not like he'll ever be able to fly with wings like __**that**__," another child said, before the group flew off a farther distance to where Feliciano could only barely make out their moving figures._

_Feliciano flinched and faltered at the insult. He sighed and enviously watched as the others flew about, darting quickly and others gracefully moving in arcs and loops._

"_Feliciano~! Get back to the house, dear, Roderich is calling for you," Elizabeta said, flying over to the child and alighting beside him, helping him up. "It's almost suppertime, and it's getting dark. You're too young to be out flying at night," she chided lightly, dusting off the child. "Still getting the hang of it, I see."_

"_S-Si, Miss Hungary…" he said, blushing as he was dusted off. "I-I just need more practice, I guess."_

_Elizabeta laughed softly and patted him on the head. "Don't worry, Feli. Everyone learns at different paces."_

_Feliciano blushed and stared at the ground, where he was pretty sure he'd stay his whole life, and followed Elizabeta home._

_He sighed and absently preened his fluffy, downy wings, knowing he'd never be able to use them to fly._

* * *

"Mr. Vargas! We've got soldiers coming in from the battle up north!" A nurse called to him, as the hospital wing of the camps began to get busy. "The number of wounded is high, judging by what the messengers sent! It's not looking good!"

Feliciano instantly was at attention, quickly getting prepared and organizing all the other medics to get ready for a long night.

He quickly washed his hands and got into his scrubs, rushing over to help patients into the beds.

"Claude, I need you to stem the bleeding of this one- Maria, could you run over and get the bin of antidotes, I think some of them were hit with poison darts! Giorgio, please hurry and begin healing anyone with deeper wounds, and Sandra, please hurry and start triage and screening everyone to see who needs care the fastest!" Feliciano called out, quickly moving about and working, organizing the many medics in the hospital wing.

He himself rushed over to a soldier whose abdomen had been pierced by some weapon or other, but by the looks of it, it must have been a sword. Feliciano bit his lip and instantly removed the bloodied cloth from around the wound, and exposed it, before placing his hands over it and focusing hard, hands beginning to glow green with healing energy. He had to work quickly and precisely, and with artists' hands, he found that it wasn't too difficult to gently work the healing energy through the torn tissue.

He moved, from patient to patient, working with his many aides to heal the most they could, using their magic on the more severely injured patients and using traditional procedures on those with lesser injuries, and before Feliciano knew it, it was early morning.

They'd worked through the night… and the sun was rising.

Feliciano sighed tiredly, and began his rounds without a moment's rest.

* * *

His name was Feliciano Vargas, the embodiment of North Italy, and he was currently serving as the Freedom Force's head medic. At the moment he was serving in the ninth corps, headed by Ivan Braginski. ("Freedom Forces" had been Alfred's idea, of course. Being somewhat fitting, the name stuck.)

He had decided a few centuries ago that he'd wanted to be a healer rather than a fighter in times of war, and that's exactly what he became. While he was a highly ranked and qualified combat medic, he often preferred to avoid battles and stay in the hospital wings on the grounded camps, where it was safer.

A few of the other Nations had posts throughout this corps as well, and it was always hectic, to say the least. Feliciano was always curiously checking in on other nearby divisions and brigades to see how some of the other Nations in other areas were doing, but for the most part, he was too busy trying to keep order in the hospital wing to keep too much of an eye on things. Being new to this corps (he'd been transferred last month), the only Nation he knew of that was at this camp was Russia.

In a corps of thirty thousand, it was… very easy to find himself losing touch with people even within the same corps as him. He still didn't know the majority of the men stationed here, and he still had yet to find a human that outright accepted his… state. (The other Nations, to his relief, at least accepted it outwardly, whenever he'd run into one at the other camps.)

After a long day of working in the hospital wing, all he really wanted was a nice dinner to fill him up before he went to his makeshift nest in the woods east of the encampment. (He wondered if there would be pasta today.) But of course, just before he began to trot towards the mess hall to eat, someone grabbed him by the back of his collar.

"Vargas!" A Lieutenant barked out, and Feliciano instantly tensed and cursed softly under his breath at his luck. "You've skipped flight training, _again_! If you keep this up, we'll have to follow up with disciplinary action! Head to the training rings at once!"

Feliciano quivered and nodded shakily and darted away from the lieutenant in the direction of the training rings, but once he was out of sight, he desperately attempted to fly to his hidden makeshift nest instead, where he could hide for a while.

He spread his large, white wings- wings that would be impressive if they were, well, useful- and beat them down with powerful movements, until he was airborne. The skies around the camps were usually busy, but luckily no one seemed to be in the air at the time. It was most likely that everyone was already having dinner- _Like I should be,_ Feliciano pouted- and getting ready to end their day.

Once in the air, though, he began his usual struggle to maintain control and _stay airborne_, which he could never really succeed at- those useless, fluffy wings of his were not built for controlled flight. He could barely stay up in the air properly. He already realized he was on a crash course and headed towards the ground at a quick pace.

"Oh, dio, oh dio, l-look out! Look out!" Feliciano called out as his clumsy plummet brought him closer and closer to someone on the ground below him, who unfortunately had their guard down and hadn't heard the flapping of his wings.

Just a split second before Feliciano actually crashed into the man, he caught sight of wide, violet eyes.

_Violet…?_

And then there was a hard impact and Feliciano felt himself land in a crumpled heap on the ground with the poor guy he'd had the misfortune of crashing into.

"I'm so sorry!" Feliciano blurted out, repeating it over and over. "I'm really, really sorry, Dio, I didn't mean to crash into you, I mean, I even tried to warn you, but you must've really been zoning out there, huh-" Feliciano was scrambling off the other man and trying to dust him off, before his hands brushed over medals over the heart of his uniform.

Feliciano paused and examined the medals on the uniform he was dusting off, before his eyes widened. Had he just crashed into…

Feliciano slowly looked up, to find himself meeting the gaze of one Ivan Braginski.

The Italian audibly squeaked and jumped back, apologizing even more profusely than he had before. Oh no, he'd crashed into the _Lieutenant General?_ The one in charge of their _entire corps_?

The Russian man slowly stood up, straightening his uniform, before running an analytical gaze over Feliciano, violet eyes landing on Feliciano's fluffy white wings. Feliciano instantly tried tucking his wings as close to his body as possible, in a futile attempt to hide their uselessness from sight. They were too easy to see nonetheless, especially with the amount of downy and plumed feathers on him. Feliciano watched as Ivan's lips quirked into a curve of slight amusement, before his gaze settled onto his face, as if finally acknowledging his presence there.

"Ah… so it is you," Ivan said simply, raising an eyebrow at Feliciano. The man was easily a foot taller than Feliciano, and the small Italian felt easily intimidated by Ivan, especially under his focused gaze. To his surprise, though, Russia's gaze wasn't as icy or harsh as he'd expected it to be. (The other soldiers and Nations were always spreading rumors about Russia…)

The gaze was thoughtful, the curve of his lips slightly amused still. Feliciano still felt himself tense with apprehension, though, and continued to apologize.

"D-Dispiace! I really am sorry! I- I was just trying to get away from the training course a-and I lost my balance a-and then I fell and y-yeah..." Feliciano trailed off, cutting himself off before he began rambling, as he was apt to do. "B-But you aren't hurt, are you? I could heal anything, if you need me to! I-I'm good at that!" he suddenly offered next, lifting a glowing hand towards Ivan.

Ivan only seemed to find this even more amusing, and he laughed softly, a low chuckle that startled Feliciano and only unsettled him more. He turned red in slight embarrassment, wondering if he'd said something wrong.

"Did I say something wrong...? Or funny? I wasn't trying to be, but, okay! I-I guess you're alright then..." Feliciano rambled on next, blushing and trailing off once more, lowering his hand and cutting off energy flow to it, its glow ceasing. Ivan's chuckles died down and he gave a dismissive wave of his hand.

"Da, it is fine," Ivan said simply. He smirked slightly. "After all, I very much doubt that someone as small as you could cause me much harm like this, Italiya." Feliciano turned a deep red and pouted at that, huffing slightly.

"I'm not _that_ small!" Feliciano protested softly under his breath, not having the courage to speak out against his commanding officer, especially since _Ivan Braginski was his commanding officer_.

Feliciano often wondered if he was just born unlucky.

But seeing that Ivan did not seem too upset at all, Feliciano perked up slightly. "So you're… not angry?" he asked hopefully.

Ivan shook his head. "нет. Just be more careful next time. Unless of course, you were aiming for the ground..." he replied, another small smirk settling on his lips. Feliciano turned scarlet again.

"Well, I was intending to land eventually, just… not… there," Feliciano said sheepishly, before straightening up into a slightly clumsy salute. "But I'll really do my best to be more careful! I really am super sorry about crashing into you!" he said, feeling himself relax slightly.

Besides the slightly mean teases from him, Ivan didn't give any indication that he was too upset, so Feliciano decided that it'd be for the best if he just stayed on this good side of his.

"It is alright," Ivan said simply, seeming unperturbed. "Simply… do not be making a habit of it, understand?" Feliciano shivered slightly at that, perceiving it as a threat, and nodded.

"Dispiace! I'll really try my best, sir!" Feliciano replied. Ivan looked him over for a moment, raising an eyebrow, and Feliciano only felt himself coloring a deeper shade of red and feeling even more intimidated under the sharp gaze.

"Do you always do so much apologizing?" Ivan finally asked, the slightest tinge of amusement still in his voice.

"Ah, I'm sorry- I mean, well, um... I never realized how much I do it... I suppose I do that a lot, huh? Dispiace!" Feliciano blurted out nervously.

There was another beat of silence.

"…Oh wait, I did it again, didn't I...?"

Ivan gave him an unreadable look and simply nodded.

Feliciano blushed darkly and looked down at the ground. "Shutting up now, sir."

Ivan raised his eyebrow at the small male again, before simply shaking his head slightly, but not seeming actually bothered. "Well. This has certainly been… interesting, but I must get going," Ivan said simply, before turning to take his leave. However, to his surprise, the fluffwinged male was trotting along at his side, curiously.

"Oh, where are you going? Did you have work to do? Dispiace, I must have made you late for something, oh, I really didn't mean to! But is your job fun? It must be, to be able to tell everyone what to do and relax- or is it not relaxing?" Feliciano asked all at once, finding that he often had to take two or three strides to match a single of Ivan's. His ensuing trot was rather funny to watch, and Ivan was slightly distracted by how someone so small could have wings so large.

Ivan blinked slightly at the onslaught of questions, and wasn't quite sure if he was glad for the company or irritated by it. Feliciano could be very taxing on the nerves, so he'd heard, but at the same time, it wasn't often that _anyone_ (besides his own sisters, of course) willingly talked to him or stayed near him longer than necessary, and it was almost pleasant to have someone friendly to speak to.

He grudgingly let the fluffwing follow him along, for the time being.

"I was heading towards a meeting in the camps to discuss the situation on the battle front," Ivan replied. "I would not call my job 'fun', but I do not mind it... although, it is not as relaxing as you seem to think." After a few moments, he added, "Ah, do _you_ not have somewhere to be being as well, Italiya?"

Feliciano smiled at him brightly. "Nope! I already escaped-" He caught himself and quickly continued- "I mean, er, finished my flight training for the day, and my rounds in the hospital wing were done earlier! So I'm free!" Feliciano replied.

Ivan looked him over out of the corner of his eye, giving a soft hum. "I see… so _you_ are the one who has been constantly skipping his flight training?" he asked, not seeming surprised by this new information.

Feliciano turned scarlet. "Y-You've heard?"

"Of course I have heard. I'm your commanding officer," Ivan replied, sounding almost amused. "I, ah, get reports about all the… _troublemakers_."

Feliciano instantly seemed a bit panicked and flailed about. "V-Ve, but I'm really not a troublemaker, honest! I just really don't like going to flight training because everyone else is so much better and stronger and faster than me a-and because I'm the fluffwing everyone hates me a-and they're always knocking me out of the sky and I really don't like going! Per favore, you won't make me go, will you? Please don't make me!" Feliciano practically whimpered, giving Ivan a wide-eyed look that begged for help.

Ivan was startled by this outburst, and simply regarded Feliciano quietly for a few moments as they walked along. Feliciano only faltered and shrunk back slightly, not sure if Ivan's gaze heralded good or bad news.

Ivan couldn't help but feel slight pity for the fluffwinged male- it was never easy being born with wings like that, so downy and useless for flying. And it certainly must not be easy to try and maintain some level of respectability in the _military_ of all places with wings like those.

It was no wonder Italy had always been bullied, even as a child.

"I will look into it," Ivan finally said, noncommittally. Feliciano seemed relieved, and continued to follow the taller male through the forest, feeling a little seed of hope planted in his heart.

Feliciano followed quietly for a few moments, which surprised Ivan, but neither of them did anything to break the silence. Feliciano spent the time walking admiring Ivan's wings and curiously looking them over. While Ivan could sense that Feliciano's gaze were on his wings, he didn't say anything. It was quite normal for new acquaintances to assess each other's wings like this- a person's wings were unique and people could often tell each other apart by looking at wings alone.

Ivan's wings were huge, but considering how tall Ivan was, it wasn't a surprise. They were currently tucked close to his back, but the dusky violet-grey color was still easily visible. The feathers were strong-quilled and well preened, and it was obvious that they were very powerful. Ivan must be a strong flier, Feliciano mused to himself. From the looks of it, Feliciano thought, Ivan seemed to have eagle-type wings.

Feliciano's own wings were still ever so fluffy and downy-feathered, with mostly semiplume and down covering them. He had some flight feathers, but not many, and that was how he got labeled as a fluffwing. His lack of flight feathers kept him from being able to fly properly- a huge disadvantage during a war, and in life in general. But his large white wings were powerful as well- he simply had little control over them. His own wings resembled those of a peregrine falcon- or at least, they would, if he had proper flight feathers.

After musing over Ivan's wings for a few minutes, Feliciano sped up his trotting and once again ended up near Ivan's side. He followed along quietly, before beginning to chatter again. Ivan was surprised once more that Feliciano was being so open and friendly to him- he wasn't used to such friendly interaction- but nonetheless let Feliciano carry on. He was only half-listening at this point, but he figured that no harm could come of letting the fluffwing keep him company for a while.

Feliciano's wings fluttered slightly as he began to relax, and happily followed the taller male along. Ivan didn't seem so bad- at least he wasn't bullying him about his wings like half the other soldiers did. He was still a little scary, though. But then again, so was Ludwig, so Feliciano decided it would be kind of mean to just judge a book by its cover.

Of course, the moment the two set foot into the camps once more, they were getting stares from anyone they passed, the area around them becoming noticeably silent. Feliciano shrunk back and tucked his wings as close to his body as he could, and tried to hide behind Ivan as they walked along- he didn't want any more tricks or pranks played on him today. And he definitely didn't want to be hit by a mean-spirited spell, _especially_ not a fire-based one.

He knew all this unwanted attention was because he was with the General- they probably thought he'd gotten in trouble or something.

He trembled slightly under all the stares (and even some piercing glares) and tried to somewhat hide behind the other larger man in front of him.

Ivan glanced back when he felt someone getting too close to his back, and only found a very timid Feliciano attempting to hide. His gaze returned to the camps around them, and he straightened up, before ordering in a no-nonsense tone, "If you are having the time to stand around and stare, then you are having the time to work, da? Continue with what you were doing." The others in the area instantly scrambled back to where they should be, or where they were headed, and Feliciano felt the gazes finally leave him.

Feeling his heart swell slightly with admiration for Ivan, he continued to follow the other man along, wondering if he had done that to help him out. But Feliciano's heart quickly sank again when it occurred to him that Ivan probably simply didn't like anyone being lazy- it probably had nothing to do with his discomfort at all.

Noticing that Ivan was still just letting him follow along, Feliciano asked, "So… you really don't mind me being with you? I-I mean, you know who- I mean, what- I am, right…?"

Ivan simply hummed. "As long as you do not get in the way of my work, I do not mind. And besides, I am very much aware of what you are. I, ah… would have to be blind not to," he replied, gesturing to Feliciano's fluffy wings.

Feliciano blushed in embarrassment. "O-Oh… but I'm glad you don't mind!" he chirped in response, perking up. It wasn't often that anyone in the camps wasn't upset about having to be seen with him. "You know, you're really nice, grazie mille!" Feliciano said brightly, his wings fluttering slightly in delight.

Ivan paused and looked at Feliciano, blinking for a moment. Usually, such a compliment was meant to be replied with a "thank you," but Feliciano had worded it as if his kindness had been a gift to him. He found it interesting.

"You are welcome…" he eventually murmured in response, before continuing on his way.

Feliciano spoke up again soon after. "Oh! Russia, have you had dinner yet?"

Ivan shook his head. "No, I have not."

"Then, then, d-do you think we could sit near each other and get dinner together?" Feliciano asked next, hopefully. He was often left to eat alone, simply because it wasn't very popular to be around him. The loneliness was taking its toll on the usually very social Italian, especially after so much time being stuck in the camps during this war (which, officially, had lasted a year and three months already) where he was avoided for his little wing flaw.

Ivan nodded a bit, mostly just to appease the Italian. "I do not see why not."

"Won't your tablemates mind?"

Ivan gave Feliciano an amused look.

"Italiya, you were only transferred to this camp last month, correct?" Ivan asked. "Although, that should have given you plenty of time to realize that other Nations beside myself are here. I doubt the others will mind your presence."

Feliciano only felt even more embarrassed at that- he probably _should_ have known that other Nations were around… He'd simply been so busy. Unless they came into the hospital wing, it was unlikely that he'd ever run into them, especially with so many people around to take care of!

"O-Oh… I see. Who else is here, then…?" Feliciano asked curiously.

"We are joined by Greece, a messenger; Estonia, one of our strategists; England; head mage of the corps; and… ah, Poland, who has decided he would rather be a private to 'keep an eye' on the other soldiers from the inside…" Russia said, shaking his head slightly at the last part. "He mostly spends his time socializing, as opposed to gathering any useful information or ideas…"

Feliciano perked up in delight when he heard that Greece and Poland were here- they were both good friends of his, and he was glad that he had some friendly faces to look forward to at dinner. "Oh! I'm so glad some of the others are here!" Feliciano said brightly, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet. "At least they don't mind my wings…"

Ivan only nodded in reply, giving Feliciano an amused look at the bright and cheery, almost childish behavior.

"V-Ve! I have to go back to the hospital wing for evening rounds!" Feliciano said, suddenly remembering. "I'll meet up with you all for dinner- what time do you guys usually get it…?"

"Around 20:00- a bit late, but we all have our duties to attend to," Ivan replied. "I will see you then."

Feliciano nodded brightly, glad that Ivan didn't seem opposed to having him join the little group. "Alright! I'll see you at eight!" he said, before beginning to trot off. A few paces away, though, he paused and turned around once more. "Ah, and I really am sorry about crashing into you! So if you ever need anything, come find me in the hospital wing!" Feliciano called out, giving a wave, before finally taking off, trying hard to avoid others, and keeping his wings tucked close to his body.

Ivan only chuckled slightly at the umpteenth apology the small Italian had given him, and went on his way, continuing through the camps towards the meeting tent.

_At least, with Feliciano around, Feliks will have someone else to pester_, he thought to himself, shaking his head slightly in amusement. He mulled over this new situation, and mused over Feliciano himself.

Feliciano certainly was an interesting one…

* * *

**A/N: And thus ends the first chapter of this new project of mine! Details such as the nature of the war and things will be covered as the story moves along.**

**Thanks for reading!**

**Drop a review?**


	2. Rainshower

**A/N: Okay~! As I've discovered while writing Shatter, I often am terrible to sticking to schedules. I won't make promises for when the story is updated, but I'll try my best to update at **_**least**_** once a month, if not more. Just putting that out there as a note.**

**Like I did with Shatter, I will be replying to anonymous reviews here in the author's notes.**

**Meow: I'm very glad you liked Shatter, and I only hope that you'll enjoy this new fic too! Thanks for reviewing!**

**Enjoy the read!**

* * *

Feliciano had been busy rushing about treating wounds and helping give medicine to soldiers who had fallen ill, keeping his wings tucked close so that he didn't knock anything over. Some soldiers were apparently getting into scuffles with each other, judging by the amount of bruises and black eyes he found himself having to write up, and he gave a long sigh.

"Ve, we're all supposed to be working together and they _still_ fight…" he whined, giving a tiny pout to no one in particular as he finished up the last of his documentation for the day. There was nothing he could do to stop the fights, though- men would be men. (Although, admittedly, some of the ladies got into fights too, and often won. He made a note to himself to be careful when flirting with those ladies.)

After checking the clocks, he found that it was almost time to meet up with the others for dinner. He quickly wrapped up whatever work he had left, and started trying to sneak along to the dining halls. He tucked his wings in closer still, trying to keep them out of sight so that any potential bullies would be less likely to see him.

As a fluffwing, he had a lot of difficulty flying, and that tended to attract a lot of bad attention. His downy wings were not the structured and strong quills people needed to properly control their flight, and because of this, he was an easy target for bullying. It had been more of a problem when he'd been a child, and as an adult most people didn't pay him too much mind. Once the war started, however, everything had changed. He was surrounded by men and women in the military who both saw him as a hindrance and a liability- someone who couldn't fly properly shouldn't be in the military, let alone hold a position as important as the head medic and combat medic of a corps!

But his skills as a healer were undoubtedly some of the best around, and his status as a Nation made it mandatory for him to be involved in the affairs of the military.

Thus, he found himself in this predicament.

He thought that he would be able to make it to the dining hall without much incident, but of course, just before he could reach the entrance, someone pointed him out.

"Oi, hey look! It's the fluffwing!"

"Hey there, fluffy- your wings look more badly preened than usual!"

"Oh, wait, your feathers are always like that! Haha!"

Feliciano sighed softly and shook his head, wondering why it was that so many of the younger, new recruits were always so cruel and immature. He did his best to ignore it, but suddenly he heard:

"Wait, maybe a nice bath would help him straighten and smooth down those fuzzy feathers of his!"

"Yeah, yeah, good idea!"

The next thing Feliciano knew, he was hit by a water blast spell, leaving him soaked from head to toe. He tried his best to shake off most of the water, coloring scarlet as he heard the group of men laughing at his expense.

He could have done a drying spell or a water spell to try and get the water off of him and his clothes, but as head medic he was bound by duty to conserve as much magic energy as he could in case of emergencies. (One never knew when a flood of injured soldiers would arrive, or a surprise attack would happen.) And so, he sighed, dealt with it, and quietly tried to slip in, getting his food and looking around for Ivan, hoping that he was here so he'd have a (somewhat) friendly face to sit by.

To his immense relief, he found the Russian sitting at the far end of the hall, where higher-ups usually sat. He trotted over quickly, hoping he wouldn't attract too much attention (but in the end, he heard a lot of jeers and laughter anyway) and quickly plopped down beside Ivan at his table.

"Ciao!" he chirped, a little hesitantly. He wasn't quite sure if Ivan's invite to sit with him for dinner had simply been out of politeness or if it was sincere. Ivan looked over at him, before seeming a bit surprised.

"Did you, ah, fall into a lake?" was the first thing out of Ivan's mouth, as the man looked Feliciano's soaked body over.

"Well, er… sure," Feliciano replied, not quite wanting to admit that he was being bullied. Ivan didn't seem convinced, and raised an eyebrow.

"That must have been some lake," he said next, staring Feliciano down as if challenging his lie. Feliciano turned scarlet and lightly picked at his food, not quite wanting to respond.

"What makes you say that?" Feliciano said softly, trying to act normal, but failing slightly, as he continued to look around warily.

"Because of the way you are acting." Ivan said it very bluntly and matter-of-factly, and Feliciano knew that if this kept up he'd have to admit it soon.

"Am I acting strangely?"

"I suppose not, if looking around the room nervously is something normal for you," Ivan hummed, before taking another few bites of his own dinner. Feliciano turned absolutely scarlet and simply kept quiet, focusing on his food instead.

The small male instead was focusing on trying to stretch out his wings, so that they could air dry and he could try to shake them out, but every time he tried, someone would purposefully trot over the ends of his wings, making Feliciano wince in pain and quickly withdraw. But he would try, time and time again, in an attempt to relieve the discomfort of waterlogged wings. While most other people's wings were often unaffected by water in small amounts, Feliciano's downy feathers were not built to withstand and repel water- especially not a gush of it that had come from a water spell.

Ivan noticed his discomfort and felt a bit of pity, and he feigned a stretch, spreading out his large, dusky grey-violet wings, to make Feliciano a space to spread his own. (No one would _dare_ tread on General Braginski's wings.) Feliciano shook out his wings a bit, felt a little more relieved, and happily tucked them back in. They weren't dry yet, but at least some of the water had gotten off.

Ivan was quick to tuck in wings back in the moment Feliciano did. _It was just a stretch_, he would insist, if anyone asked about it.

A loud, familiar voice suddenly caught Feliciano's attention.

"Feli~! Is that you?" the chipper, excited voice asked, before running over and tugging the Italian right out of his seat. (Ivan, meanwhile, was giving a low sigh under his breath at the new arrival.)

"Feliks! Ciao!" Feliciano perked up in delight to see his friend again, but he blushed darkly as the Polish man began to look him over.

"Like, I would hug you and all, but you're totally soaked," Feliks noted. "What happened?"

"Er… some guys played a trick on me again, a-and hit me with a water jet spell…" Feliciano admitted. Ivan seemed slightly chagrined that Feliciano told Feliks right off the bat, while trying to hide the truth from him. Ivan knew that Feliciano had no reason to trust him with his issues, but nonetheless, when a superior officer asks a question of a subordinate, one expects a straight answer from that subordinate.

"Aw, you poor thing! Here, Feli, let me dry you off. I think it's totally stupid that you're not even allowed to dry yourself off, ugh," Feliks said with a pout, as he used some magic energy to dry his friend's clothes, wings, hair, and skin off. "There, all dry."

"Grazie mille, Feliks! Ah, but, rules are rules, I guess… I have to be ready for emergencies, you know!"

"Fels, we _all_ technically have to be ready for emergencies, but you don't see the rest of us not even drying ourselves off. Like, that's crazy dedication you got," Feliks noted, sitting down. "So, I heard you were made a head combat medic, right? That's awesome! I'm totally going to do the super cool interrogations, though!"

Ivan instantly spoke up. "No, you will not," he said a bit gruffly, only imagining the disaster that might happen if they let Feliks do any interrogations.

"Hey! I can be a great interrogator! If you just, like, didn't have a stick up your ass and let me try, I would totally show you!" Feliks half-snapped, half-whined in reply.

Feliciano instantly gave a laugh as he listened to his friend's stubborn retorts. He knew that Feliks and Ivan often didn't get along, though, so he tried to distract the eager Pole.

"Ve, so you really did dye your feathers pink?" Feliciano asked, looking over Feliks' light pink wings curiously. His wings were similarly shaped to those of a chickadee, and were usually a mottled mix of red and white feathers, with the ends of his flight quills being a bright red. But now, they were all one uniform color- the light pink.

"Yup! Don't they look cute?" Feliks said in delight, puffing up in pride.

"They look great! Did you do it yourself?"

"Nah, I had this really sweet girl at the stylist's do it for me," Feliks replied.

Feliciano glanced back over at Ivan curiously, noticing that the other had already finished his food, and even put away his tray and dishes already. But the large General was instead scanning the mess hall analytically, as if searching for something.

"Sir…?" he asked softly. "What are you looking for?"

"You said that someone used a water spell on you, correct? That is inappropriate conduct, especially when aimed towards our head medic," Ivan replied simply, looking around. "Do you know who it was?"

"A-Ah, it was a group outside… i-it's only a small group of them who like to prank me and things, but everyone else seems to find it pretty funny…" Feliciano sighed.

"Well, they're all jerks!" Feliks butted in. "I'll totally give them a piece of my mind for you later, when I find them! It's horrid they treat you like that. It's because of your wings, right? I think they're totally cute. Like look at these fluffy things!" Feliks laughed and pulled at one of Feliciano's wings, pulling it close and cuddling into it. "Seriously, they're the warmest, comfiest things ever. They must be great for the winter," he said.

Feliciano couldn't help but smile at his friend's approval of his wings. He only let his friends and family touch his wings- it was the same for most people. "Si, they are really warm and cozy. It's nice to have wings like these in the winter, they're soft and warm… I don't even need blankets on my nest half the time," he chirped. "Ah, but don't cause any trouble for my sake! I'm sure those guys will stop once they get bored…"

Before either Feliks or Ivan could say anything in response, a very huffy Arthur set his food down onto the table and began to eat without so much as a greeting. Feliciano ventured one anyway.

"Ciao, England," he chirped.

"Hello, Italy," Arthur replied, sounding a little absent-minded as he spoke. He suddenly looked up, as he realized who he'd just spoken to. "Italy!? When did you get here? I haven't seen you around at all!"

"Hehe, it's because I work in the medical wing all the time. I'm your new head medic," Italy chirped with a bit of pride. He tilted his head at the Englishman next, seeming a little concerned. "Ah, so… are you alright? You seemed a little out of it there, you didn't even notice me here at first."

"Don't worry about me. I'm just still thinking over some new strategies and trying to get some of my division to behave and keep from wasting their magic. Honestly, they think just because they're in the mage division that they can throw about spells without a care. They should be prepared in case of an emergency!" he huffed, seeming a little frustrated. "Of course, the worst perpetrators of it are the Americans, no sense of energy preservation, honestly."

Feliciano stared for a moment and simply nodded. "I'll… leave you to it, then. Good luck. My staff all seem really nice so far, except maybe Jeff, he's a bit lazy, but that's it!" he chirped, suddenly feeling very grateful that all his medics were very competent and well-trained, efficient hard workers. He looked around hopefully.

"Russia told me that Estonia and Heracles were here, too," Feliciano said, more as a question. Feliks nodded.

"Yeah, they are, but Eduard got caught up in this super boring meeting for planning attacks and junk, and Heracles is off flying a message to the group up north."

Feliciano pouted. "Aw, I was hoping to see Heracles again…"

"Don't worry. Even though he's a sleeper, he can fly faster than the wind," Feliks said, waving it off. "It's why he's our messenger. He'll be back by tomorrow."

"Alright. Ve, I hope he gets back soon! I haven't seen him since the war started…" he sighed. "I think the whole war is… just stupid," he murmured softly. "Shouldn't it be in everyone's interests for the sea to just be free for everyone? It's selfish of anyone to try and seize control… "

"Yeah, that's why I've been saying that all those guys on the other side are totally morons. It's not cool to just try and take over the sea! It's for all of us to use," Feliks huffed.

"It's in everyone's best interests to keep the oceans free, I agree with Italy," Arthur said afterwards. "But there are some nations out there who still want to use the control of the sea for their own profit and no one else's…" He sighed, and finished up his meal, before putting his tray away and returning to the table.

Feliciano was distracted from the conversation as he realized that he was suddenly the center of many soldier's stares. As he listened, he could quickly figure out what was going on.

"What's the fluffwing doing sitting with the General? They couldn't possibly be friends, right?"

"Pft, no way. The General's so serious and strict, and strong, too. There's no way he'd hang out with him on purpose…"

Feliciano instantly shrunk back slightly, realizing that he was getting all this attention because he was sitting next to Russia. Feliks was on Feliciano's other side, and Arthur was sitting across from Feliks- leaving Feliciano the only one willing to get close enough to the intimidating Russian.

Russia seemed to notice the attention as well, except he pinned everyone with an icy stare, quickly startling all the humans into looking away and minding their own business. "Humans are much too interested in pointless gossip and the affairs of others," Ivan muttered.

Arthur nodded. "My thoughts exactly…"

Feliciano felt a little guilty- he was just as prone to gossip and nosing about. He couldn't help being curious, so he felt a bit shamed by Ivan's words. Feliks, however, protested.

"Hey! It's not like we can help but be interested in other people. What else is there to do here? It's completely boring!" Feliks huffed, finishing his food up, finally. Feliciano cleared his plate afterwards, stretching a little and giving a contented hum. He admittedly did feel a bit better knowing that he wasn't the only one who was interested in knowing the social news.

It had been nice to have a calm meal with familiar faces, and not have to worry about people trying to prank him or make fun of him while he ate. He was glad he'd run into Ivan earlier in the day- if he hadn't, then he might not have realized that there were other Nations here for a while yet! It would have been terrible to have been on his own any longer.

Soon, the meal came to an end, and they all stood to head their separate ways for the night.

"Grazie for letting me have dinner with you guys," Feliciano chirped happily, smiling brightly at the others, Ivan especially. "I can eat with you from now on, right…?"

"Of course! Don't be silly, Feli. We nations have to like, stick together," Feliks assured, smacking Feliciano on the back happily. Feliciano squeaked at the smack to his back, but he laughed, knowing it was a friendly, overenthusiastic gesture that Feliks was prone to performing.

"That's right- besides, it's safer for you to stay with us," Arthur commented. "I, er. I'm aware of how your wings often get you unwanted attention. It would be best to stay with higher ups like Russia and myself."

Feliciano couldn't help but smile gratefully at the Englishman. Arthur really could be nice, when he wasn't being so stuffy, after all, he thought with an internal laugh.

"Grazie, Arthur! I'll come to you, then!" he joked, making the Englishman alarmed.

"Don't even think about it! I have my own work to do!" Arthur said, face turning slightly red as he fussed. Feliciano only giggled and waved him off.

"Don't worry~ I won't _really_ come bother you. That's reserved for Lud," he said with a small smile. "But all of you are free to come visit me at the medics' wing if you ever want to see me, or need something treated!" he said, giving a dutiful, but still playful, salute. "It's my job to make sure you're all healthy and strong, so don't worry about coming by if you need to."

Feliks and Arthur nodded, and after a few words, took their leave- Feliks heading off to the general soldiers' quarters and tents, while Arthur returned to the mages' quarters and retreated into his own private tent- being the head mage had perks.

Ivan looked over Feliciano before he left. "Be careful," he eventually said, steadily. "It would not be good if we lost our head medic to a group of pranksters."

"A-Ah, don't worry! It's never too bad- it's always water spells, or sometimes a fire spell, or sometimes they'll pluck my feathers just to get on my nerves, but they never do anything _really_ bad…" Feliciano murmured quietly, ready to just sneak to his nest and sleep. "But that invitation extends to you, too!" he suddenly said, changing the subject. "You can come by any time you like- I'm sure you know where the medics' tents are," he hummed with a smile.

Ivan bristled slightly at the idea that soldiers were so careless and moronic as to actually use such potentially harmful spells on a higher-up, especially the head medic, someone absolutely crucial to the survival and health of all the men stationed here. But he was caught off guard by the sudden change in subject, and nodded slightly.

"Ah… da. I will take you up on that offer, should I need to," he replied simply, looking Feliciano over in slight confusion. He was still adjusting to the fact that the small Italian was not nearly as afraid of him as most people were, and it was both confusing and somewhat… comforting. To know that such a bright, warm nation had taken a shine to him felt a bit pleasant, especially since most other people and Nations shunned him out of fear or hatred.

Feliciano smiled. "Alright. Then, I'll see you tomorrow!" he chirped, happy, bouncing a bit in place. "Buonanotte!" he said, before trotting off towards his nest.

Ivan noticed that where Feliciano was heading, there were no tents or other facilities- so where was the Italian resting? But for the time being, he left it be, assuming that Feliciano was simply running an errand. He returned to his own tent and settled down, preening his wings a bit before finishing up various tasks and heading to bed. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized that Feliciano couldn't possibly have any business in the forest to deal with… and he stood.

Feliciano, however, wandered into the forest brush, slipping though among the thickness of the forest, before he found his little nest- a group of his things, tucked away into a hull at the base of an old tree, to protect them from the elements, while he himself had nested among the roots.

He had a nest before- a proper one, in a proper tent, in the camps. But it sufficed to say that the bullies had quickly made it very difficult for Feliciano to protect his tent and things, and often, he came back after a long day of work to find his tent missing and his belongings damaged and thrown all about the area. It was always humiliating to have to clean things up on his own, gather his belongings, and set up a new nest and tent, only to have the same thing happen the next day.

Even a protective spell hadn't worked- apparently there was a good mage working to mess with him, too.

But ever the stubborn thing, Feliciano had instead made a new little nest out in the forest, where he hoped no one would find or disturb him and his things. He couldn't set up a tent, though- it would be too obvious in the green foliage of the forest, and he'd likely be spotted once again. So for now, he wrapped his large, downy wings around himself, cast a small protective spell around the area just in case, and settled to sleep, trying to keep warm as the night became colder.

And then, the storm started. Feliciano was grateful that he'd cast the protective spell, as it formed a little barrier around his little nest and his things, keeping them dry from the rain. At least, for the time being, he was safe- but the barrier he'd cast had been weak, temporary, as a way to conserve his energy. It only lasted ten minutes under the pouring rain before it vanished, leaving Feliciano soaked as he tried to protect his things.

He shivered, now soaked, and tried to also tuck himself into the nook of the tree, shaking and quivering as the cold seeped into his feathers and clothes and body, leaving him a rather pitiful looking mess.

Feliciano hated the rain, sometimes. Now was definitely one of those moments.

Suddenly- he felt the rain over him stop, and, shivering, he looked up in confusion.

Ivan was standing over him, extending a large, dusky grey-violet wing over him, to shield him from the rain. Feliciano felt his heart stop in shock for a moment, before he felt horribly shamed, embarrassed- to be caught out in the forest like this, nesting like a coward…

Ivan only looked at him steadily and sighed. "What on earth are you doing here?"

"I-I… I… w-was just… getting ready to sleep…"

"In the rain?"

"…s-si?"

Ivan frowned slightly, and said sternly, "Pick up your things." Feliciano scrambled up shakily, gathering his bag, and held it close, wrapping his wings around himself in a vain attempt to conserve some warmth- but with his wings soaked, it wasn't helping. Ivan wrapped his wing protectively around and over Feliciano, shielding him from the rain, and started to nudge him along out of the forest and towards the higher-ups' quarters.

Feliciano turned scarlet. To have someone's wing wrapped around him like this made his heart race- it was something usually reserved for very close friends or family, or- or lovers. But Ivan didn't seem to care much of the implications of the motion- he was simply using his wing to nudge and guide Feliciano along, a little impatiently.

"Why were you out there? Has someone been driving you out of your proper tent?" Ivan asked, blunt. Feliciano shrunk back slightly, not wanting to upset Ivan further. "And stop shifting so much. It is difficult to keep you dry if you keep moving about like that," he scolded, wrapping Feliciano a bit more tightly in his wing.

"Dispiace! I… well, si, I haven't really been able to stay in my tent," he said softly. "I-It was easier to nest there, in the woods…" But Feliciano felt his face burning, his heart fluttering slightly as he realized that the larger man was actively trying to keep him dry, as well as take him somewhere safe.

Ivan shook his head. "I will have to have a talk with the soldiers tomorrow…" he said, voice firm. He shook his wings free of water once they'd arrived at Ivan's tent, a rather large one reserved for the lieutenant generals, and then ushered the smaller Italian inside. "You will stay here for the night. We will set up a new tent for you once the rain passes," Ivan said, outlining his plan of action. Feliciano resisted the urge to laugh- Ivan really was a good general, and it showed in the methodical way he dealt with everything.

Feliciano set down his bag by a desk in the tent, and shivered. Ivan sighed and formed a suspended fire with a quick spell, the burning flame kept contained in an orb of magic. He held it, and offered it to Feliciano.

"Use it to dry off and warm up," the Russian instructed, before settling down and stretching slightly, removing his own rain-dampened uniform to leave him in just pants and socks.

Feliciano resisted the urge to look over at Ivan's admittedly well-built body, and instead got to work shedding his own soaked clothing, laying them out on the floor to dry, setting the orb of flame in the center of them all so that the heat could spread evenly. Feliciano was shivering, left in his boxers, the rest of his clothes now drying. He extended his wings, wrapping them around the orb as well, hoping the toasty heat would help him to dry.

Suddenly, Ivan was at his side again, offering a towel. "Here." It was blunt, and Ivan obviously still seemed a bit tense, irritated- but Feliciano could see that he was not irritated at _him-_ merely the situation. The Italian accepted the large towel and quickly wrapped himself up in it, while he let his wings continue to dry off around the flame.

This type of flame was kind, not like the harmful spells others would sometimes aim at him- and he was grateful that Ivan had made it for him. He himself had little experience with fire spells- he was more of a water user, and of course, a healer.

"Grazie," Feliciano said softly. "For taking care of me." Ivan only shook his head.

"It is only right I look after you. You are crucial to the success of this group. And crucial to my well-being, should a battle ever come, as well," Ivan replied simply, once again factoring into account battle strategies and plans for emergencies. Feliciano smiled softly as he brought the orbed flame closer to him, hugging it and basking in its warmth.

"It makes me happy… that you think so," he replied, feeling glad that at least someone felt like he was needed, that at least someone actually _wanted_ him here. "You really are nice," he chirped, feeling bright. "T-Thank you! For helping me and being so kind. The others wouldn't have done the same…"

Ivan blinked slightly in surprise. Those were words he never heard- to be called kind, nice. He didn't know how to respond- but that was alright, as Feliciano didn't expect a response. Feliciano only curled up on the floor of the tent, still wrapped in a towel, his wings wrapped around the flame orb he was holding.

"It's times like this I miss home," Feliciano mused aloud, out of nowhere. "Having a fireplace, and a bed to nest in, and being able to cook my own food… and having lots of blankets with me for when it's cold or rainy out. And having all the pasta I could eat!" he suddenly said, with a laugh and a sheepish smile.

Ivan felt his lips quirk upwards slightly, at the Italian's silliness, and the way he was so carefree. He envied that- he truly did. "Da. I suppose one would always miss the comforts of home. The stress of war is a burden on us all."

Feliciano offered Ivan a weak smile. "Si… I hate war," he murmured. "I wish it would end, soon. I h-hate always worrying, going to bed wondering if my family and friends are okay…" he said softly.

Ivan sighed and nodded. "I think every one of us hates war. At our age, we know better than to relish it," he murmured, suddenly feeling very, very tired. He hated this war as much as the others did, despite how ruthless and bloodthirsty people seemed to think he was. He could be ruthless in battle when need be, yes, but he never actively sought to cause suffering. "I think you should sleep," he said next. "It is important you get a proper rest- it does not seem like having slept outside like that was very comfortable, nor restful."

The fluffwing blushed and gave a sheepish smile. "…it really wasn't," he admitted, with a little shrug. Ivan stood from his seat on the bed, and offered it to Feliciano.

"Here. Sleep in the bed. You need sleep in a proper bed, not on the ground," Ivan said. The Italian tilted his head in slight confusion.

"But where will you sleep…?" he asked, feeling a bit guilty.

"I have a sleeping bag- I will simply use that," Ivan hummed in reply. But Feliciano protested, not wanting to take away the bed from his general. Surely, somewhere, there was a rule of etiquette that said it wasn't allowed to let your commanding officer sleep on the floor!

"But- I can't take your bed! W-Why don't we share?" Feliciano suggested. "It's a big enough bed, so we can keep on our own sides, and still get good sleep!" He seemed optimistic, hopeful. Ivan sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose with two fingers.

"Italiya, you truly do have problems listening to orders," Ivan said, sounding a bit impatient.

"…getting in bed was an order?" Feliciano asked after a moment, tilting his head. "Isn't that a bit weird-"

"_Sleep_, Italiya," Ivan said next, sounding a little more exasperated.

"Not until you get in there, too," Feliciano said stubbornly, still hugging the orb of fire that was keeping him warm and drying off both him and his clothes. Ivan decided that for now, it was best to wait until the Italian was sleepier, or in a less stubborn mood, and changed the subject.

"Are your wings dry?" he asked, while giving his own large, grey-violet wings a stretch. Feliciano seemed distracted at first, too busy staring at Ivan's wings in awe to reply.

"O-Oh! I, er, si, they're pretty much dry now, grazie," he said with a smile, hugging the fire orb a bit longer before letting go of it to set it down near his clothes to dry them. But his eyes were still on Ivan's impressive wings. "Ah… it's no wonder you're one of the best fliers, with wings like that…" he hummed, pouting a little enviously. "I'm jealous. And they're such a nice color, too. It reminds me of dusk…" he added, smiling a little.

Ivan seemed a bit startled by the praise, but nonetheless felt his lips quirk upward the slightest bit in pride. He knew he was a good flier, and was very proud of his wings, being careful to keep them in good condition like most sensible people did.

"Ah, spasibo," Ivan thanks Feliciano a bit softly in reply, before feeling the compulsion to try and return the favor. "Your wings look rather interesting as well. Maybe not the best for flying- but they look like they would be soft and warm. Well suited for the winter," he mused, looking over the fluffy and downy feathers of Feliciano's wings.

"You think so…?" he said, puffing up a little in excitement at receiving some positive comments about his wings. "Oh, and they _are_ pretty soft- here!" he chirped, outstretching a wing towards the Russian to let him feel. "Even if they're useless for everything else… at least I can cuddle into them when I get cold or sad," he murmured, making Ivan pause slightly, regarding Feliciano with a steady look, as if analyzing him.

Ivan was startled- for someone to trust him so easily to touch their wing, something so vital to life, stunned him. He concluded that Feliciano was either very foolish or overly trusting (or some combination of both), but nonetheless extended a hand to touch the wing. He seemed a bit surprised, and smiled very slightly as his fingers ran over and through the soft white feathers. "It's very pleasant to touch. It seems very warm, now that it's dry."

Feliciano smiled and relaxed under the touch. To be honest, he rarely let anyone touch his wings for fear of people taunting him for being a fluffwing- but Ivan seemed nicer than everyone made him out to be. Besides, he always felt that letting someone close to your wings was a good way to build trust.

"Si… the warmth is nice," he said, letting the lieutenant general stroke his wing a little longer, before he wrapped himself up in his wings, snuggling into the fluffy warmth happily. "Sometimes, when I molt, I can even use the feathers to make quilts and pillows," he admitted, blushing a little.

"Perhaps they are not good for flying, but this warmth is a benefit, is it not?" Ivan pointed out. "They are not as useless as you seem to think, if they can create such good down for quilts and pillows."

Feliciano blushed and smiled. "S-Si… I guess that's true…" he murmured, before giving a tiny yawn, squeaking halfway through it in a way he always tended to do. It was a recognizable habit of his, to end up squeaking in the middle of his yawns.

Ivan sighed and stood once more. "Come, now sleep."

"Not until you're in there, too," Feliciano replied sleepily.

"Italiya, that is an order now," he clarified again, voice a bit gruff. Feliciano pouted at the man, wondering why he was fussing so much over his sleep, but settled in the bed nonetheless, off to one edge to leave room for Ivan just in case.

Feliciano's wings relaxed, and he let them hang slightly off the bed as he closed his eyes to sleep. "You can call me Feliciano, you know. If you want," he murmured, before nuzzling into a pillow sleepily and draping the covers over himself.

Ivan paused, contemplating the offer for a moment. Not only had Feliciano allowed him to touch his wing, but he had also even allowed him to call him by name. He was stunned by such forwardness, just friendliness he was not accustomed to. What had he done to deserve the friendliness of this person, who seemed so bright and warm? It seemed contradictory to him- that someone rumored to be cold as ice and cruel would end up being tagged along by someone his exact opposite. Innocent, happy, warm.

"….alright, Feliciano," he said, a bit stiffly, not used to the intimacy usually involved in calling another Nation by their human name. It usually was intimate, to be allowed to call another Nation by name, but it was well known that Feliciano tried to get _everyone_ to call him by name- it was just his way of being friendly. But even knowing that, Ivan still felt a bit awkward.

He was relieved to find that the Italian was soon asleep, contentedly curled up on his half of the bed, wings relaxed and unguarded, unlike they usually were around the other soldiers.

Ivan contemplated getting his sleeping bag out and getting some rest himself- but, he decided to slip into the bed anyway. Although, he did make certain that there was plenty of space between himself and Feliciano. He relaxed, and closed his eyes, and was once again left thinking about how Feliciano _definitely_ was a very strange one.

But, he wasn't so bad.

* * *

**A/N: And I finally got the chapter done! I hope it was enjoyable. **

**Drop a review? I love to hear from you guys!**


	3. A Visit

**A/N: I did my best to try and get this chapter out more on time. Hopefully by the time I finish this, it's not too far off from the last chapter's post date.**

**Review replies:**

**Meow: I'm glad you enjoy it! I'll do my best to keep everyone in character to the best of my ability- the AU makes it so that history was drastically different, but I've tried to adjust their personalities only slightly.**

* * *

When Ivan woke up the next morning, he was vaguely aware of three things.

One, he had slept in by about twenty minutes.

(Not good.)

Two, it felt very warm in his tent.

(Good.)

Three, there was an Italian curled up to him and clinging far too tightly.

(Not sure if that was good.)

When he finally woke up enough to open his eyes and look down, his brow furrowed slightly at the sight of Feliciano curled up right into him, cuddling into him and holding on to Ivan for warmth. Ivan didn't quite approve of the proximity, and tried to gently push the Italian away without waking him- but the moment he tried to pry Feliciano off of him, Feliciano whimpered in his sleep and stirred. Ivan froze, not wanting to wake the Italian while they were this close.

By the looks of things, it had been Feliciano who had moved- Ivan was still on his side of the bed, while Feliciano seemed to have abandoned his side completely in favor of curling up to Ivan for warmth, of all things. Ivan found the idea of anyone curling up to him for _warmth_ rather absurd, as he felt as if he was always much too cold for his liking. But perhaps, to other people he felt warm? He shook the thought away, knowing that it wasn't what he should be worrying about right now.

Feliciano looked like he really needed the peaceful sleep, and so Ivan very slowly, and very carefully, managed to get the other to let go, before quickly getting out of bed. Not being used to such physical proximity or contact, the whole situation had been rather uncomfortable for him- now he felt as if he understood how Ludwig felt. (Granted, Ludwig was probably used to finding an Italian curled up to him in bed, by this point.)

Although, seeing as Ludwig was in the division up north, Feliciano had probably ended up latching on to him instead. And for some reason, the idea of simply being a replacement for Ludwig irritated Ivan, but he quickly shook away the thought, realizing that he was being rather ridiculous. He stretched once he stood, extending and flexing his wings a few times to stretch them as well, before getting dressed. He realized that he should probably wake Feliciano was well, since the head medic would likely have to start his work soon.

Ivan extended a wing to nudge at Feliciano, rousing him from sleep. "Wake, Italiya. You should get some breakfast before heading to work," he said firmly, only to be met with a sleepy whine.

"…I said to call me Feliciano," Feliciano pouted, blinking awake blearily and lifting his head up slightly from his pillow as he woke from his sleep. He reluctantly sat up, the sheets sliding off his body and leaving him to shiver in the cool morning air.

"Alright, Feliciano, but you should get dressed," Ivan replied impatiently, tossing Feliciano's now-dried clothes at him. Feliciano reluctantly got dressed and then got up with even less enthusiasm, still rubbing sleep from his eyes and not looking very ready to start his day at all.

"I was sleeping so well… did I have to wake up this early?" Feliciano mumbled, in protest. Ivan sighed and pinned him with a stony look, and Feliciano sulked, but stopped whining. He slipped on his boots and looked over at his things, and reached to pick up the heavy bag, but Ivan stopped him, using a wing to block him.

"Leave it. It will be safer if it is here in my quarters," Ivan instructed. "Until we can figure out an arrangement that will give you a safe place to stay, leave your things here." Feliciano seemed a bit surprised, but nodded and smiled gratefully.

"Grazie, Russia! You don't have to do all this for me, though," Feliciano murmured in response, feeling a little flustered and embarrassed that he was causing his lieutenant general so much trouble. "I-I mean, I don't want my things to get in your way, or anything like that…" he murmured, before watching as Russia carefully tucked his bag aside into the corner .

"There, it is no longer in the way. Does that satisfy you, Feliciano?" Ivan asked the Italian, a tiny smirk on his lips. Feliciano instantly turned red, realizing that Ivan was teasing him, and the fact both surprised and embarrassed him.

"A-Ah… si," he chirped, cheeks burning. Ivan only seemed even more amused by this, and set to stepping out of the tent, using a wingtip to tug Feliciano out as well. The Italian was still blushing, a little embarrassed at being pulled around like this, but not exactly protesting, either. "Are you going to breakfast now?"

Ivan only nodded in response, now tucking his wings back in close to his back as they walked. Feliciano quickly did the same, defensively, not wanting to face more cruel spells. But when Ivan stepped towards the mess hall, Feliciano split ways with him and headed towards the medical wing, knowing that he'd be late if he stopped to get breakfast now. Ivan paused and looked back at him as Feliciano headed straight to work, and shook his head.

"He does not take very good care of himself," Ivan mused. First, Feliciano hadn't even gotten himself a proper bed or nest to sleep in, had stayed out in the rain, and was now skipping breakfast. Ivan then headed in to the mess hall to eat, hoping the fluffwing wouldn't face too much trouble today.

* * *

Feliciano was bustling about in the medical tents, trying his best to treat as many people as he could while giving regular check-ups and physicals to soldiers as required. He had just stopped for a break, before noticing a familiar figure standing not too far away.

"Russia!" Feliciano chirped, trotting over to the man quickly. "What are you doing here? You're not hurt, are you? Or feeling sick? Quick, let me check on you-" Feliciano said in a rush, fussing a bit. It was his job to fuss, though, as the head medic specifically was usually in charge of tending to the health of the higher-ranked men, which included Ivan.

Ivan stopped him, though, holding up a hand and instead offering Feliciano a styrofoam food take-out box. Feliciano seemed a bit confused, but took it and opened it, finding a full and well-rounded breakfast inside, along with a plastic fork and some napkins.

"Ah… you brought me breakfast…?" Feliciano murmured, a bit surprised. Ivan nodded.

"You should make sure to keep your energy up, and for that, you need to eat, do you not?" Ivan said. "And you said that I was free to come see you whenever you liked. I suppose I just took liberty and took up that offer."

Feliciano's wings fluttered in delight, and he smiled softly and set the food down, quickly giving Ivan a short, but tight hug. Ivan instantly tensed, not used to the physical contact (_especially_ friendly ones) and Feliciano must have noticed, because he quickly let go.

"Ve, dispiace! I'm just really glad. It was really nice, so thank you," he chirped again. Ivan noticed that Feliciano often said that to him, whenever he was being kind, as if it was a surprise to the Italian. He felt a bit of resentment at the others for spreading rumors about him, rumors that made his kindness seem so surprising or impossible. But at least Feliciano trusted him, and didn't seem to think he had some sort of ulterior motive, like many other people (both humans and Nations) would assume.

"The apologies again," Ivan hummed, seeming amused. Feliciano instantly turned scarlet again, and held his tongue, trying to avoid apologizing _for_ apologizing. "You should sit and eat," Ivan said, although his stern tone made it more of an order than a suggestion.

Feliciano was admittedly glad to get a chance to sit and rest, though, and he led Ivan into his office and sat, happily digging in to his meal. His wings noticeably relaxed once he was eating in the safety of his office tent, and the safety of his general's presence. Ivan watched as the usually tensed and tucked in wings slowly unfurled to relax, half resting on the ground and showing off how fluffy they truly were. He couldn't help but give a small, low laugh at the sight.

The Italian paused in his meal, looking up at Ivan curiously. "What is it…?"

"Ah, it is just your wings. They truly do look rather… interesting," he hummed, eventually settling on a kinder word. Feliciano turned red and seemed a bit upset, giving a soft sigh between bites of food.

"…it's alright, you can call them ridiculous if you like," Feliciano mumbled, perfectly aware of how his wings looked rather funny in comparison to everyone else's sleek and beautiful wings. Ivan frowned.

"No, not ridiculous. Simply… interesting," he said simply. "For someone so small to have wings so large, it is rather amusing," he said, smirking at the Italian a little. Feliciano turned scarlet at that, and instead responded by taking a few more bites of food, too flustered to respond for a few moments.

"…I can't help that they're big," he mumbled, cheeks still red.

Ivan only seemed more amused. "You know, Feliciano. Your wings are probably much more powerful than you realize," he hummed, looking over them with renewed interest as the thought occurred to him. "With proper training, I'm very certain you could learn to properly fly."

Feliciano instantly stopped eating, staring at Ivan with wide, awed, and hopeful eyes.

"You… do you really think I could learn to fly?" he asked, feeling suddenly excited. If he could straighten out his flight, get his balance and learn to properly and truly fly, then- then he wouldn't be a burden anymore, no one would have a reason to continue picking on him. His wings fluttered in delight at the mere idea, and he truly hoped that Ivan was telling the truth and not teasing him subtly.

Ivan nodded. "Of course. I simply think that you need a lot of practice, and some help. I… would not be surprised if I found out that you avoided trying to fly," he hummed, inviting Feliciano implicitly to share his flight habits.

"A-Ah… si… I usually try to avoid it, s-since I was always so bad at it, and whenever I did try, I'd end up hurting myself or causing trouble or being made fun of," he murmured. It was true- whenever he tried flying, he was often discouraged in one way or another. It wasn't surprising that he'd never learned to control his flight, or his wings.

Ivan thought over this for a moment, before suddenly asking, "I am not keeping you from your work, am I?"

Feliciano shook his head. "No, don't worry! It was almost time for lunch break anyway. And since I'm technically always on call, it doesn't matter if I finish or not, because there's _technically _no deadline anyway~!" he chirped brightly, a little mischief in his eyes, as he used the convoluted logic to his advantage.

Ivan couldn't help but give a small laugh at that, a bit surprised. It wasn't often that someone could make him laugh, and Feliciano had just managed to do it without even trying. He realized afterwards, though, that Feliciano was staring at him with a little smile on his lips.

"…what?"

"You have a nice laugh," Feliciano murmured a bit shyly in response, before quickly returning to his meal, eating so he'd have a full mouth and not have to talk. Ivan regarded Feliciano steadily for a moment, trying to judge if that had been sincere or not, before letting it go, not thinking too much into it. He knew that Feliciano was not the kind to lie or say things to just to fluff up someone's ego- so to suspect him of lying was a silly notion.

"So, are you always really busy too…? I've never really known what most of the higher-ups do," Feliciano asked softly after a moment, realizing that while he himself was a "higher-up", he had much different responsibilities than most of the others.

Ivan hummed for a moment before replying. (He noted in the back of his mind, how odd it was to just have a casual conversation like this, without the other party fearing him.) "It is… rather tedious. I am constantly monitoring the affairs of every section of this corps, as well as participating in training soldiers. I have to discipline them, of course, if they do not behave, and generally make sure that the camps don't burn to the ground," he stated a bit bluntly. "It is very busy."

"Ve… then why did you come to visit me…?" Feliciano asked, a little lost, as he tilted his head.

Ivan gave a small smirk. "Just making sure the medical wing is running as smoothly as it should."

Feliciano instantly felt his feathers bristle and puff up in slight panic. "W-Was this an inspection? That's not fair, you didn't even warn me!" Feliciano protested, cheeks scarlet as he realized the trick Ivan had played on him.

Ivan only chuckled. "If it makes you feel better, you passed," he said with a hum. "Although, I would suggest you not eat on the job." He had yet another small smirk on his lips, making the Italian turn a bright red.

"…y-you're terrible," Feliciano huffed in frustration, cheeks still red, before stuffing his face again with more food. "You're the one who insisted I eat in the first place."

"That is part of the joke, Feliciano. Ah, but I suppose I have never been quite good at joking," the Russian said in reply, seeming to be musing over past attempts at humor. Feliciano only giggled slightly at that, trying to stifle it the best he could.

After a few moments of surprisingly comfortable silence, Feliciano piped up again.

"Do you… know if I can get another tent, again?" he asked hopefully, not liking the idea of going back to nesting outside at the base of a tree.

"I will hold off on setting up another nesting tent for you until I have had a talk with the majority of my men. They need to understand that such behavior will not be tolerated in my camps," Ivan said, suddenly becoming the stern and serious official he was once more. The Italian felt a small shiver run down his spine- the sudden change in demeanor was intimidating, and he'd forgotten just how severe his commanding officer could be.

"A-Ah… I see…" Feliciano murmured softly in response, before finishing his meal and tossing away the trash. "Thanks again for bringing me lunch, though," he chirped softly, smiling over at Ivan, who looked at him again, before his stern gaze softened.

"It is not a problem. After all, _someone_ has to take care of _you_," Ivan pointed out. With Feliciano so busy tending to and healing so many other people, someone had to be around to make sure that Feliciano took care of himself as well. Feliciano only blushed at Ivan's words, and mumbled something stubbornly. "What was that, Feliciano?" Ivan asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I-I said that I could take care of myself," Feliciano huffed again, a little louder this time. Ivan laughed in response, and Feliciano felt caught between admiring his laugh and protesting at it.

"Feliciano, you have obviously not been doing a good job of it so far, so I would suggest you don't try to lie to me," Ivan said with a little smirk, although there was a tiny edge of a threat there, and Feliciano quickly quieted, wings drooping from anxiety.

Ivan was still so hard to read- one moment he could be friendly, even playful- and then the next, he was serious, stern, even dangerous seeming. It both scared and intrigued the Italian, and Feliciano wanted to learn more about Ivan, try to understand why he would switch personas so suddenly, or if it was even on purpose.

"Dispiace," he murmured softly, apologizing yet again. This time, though it seemed to placate Ivan, and the Russian lifted a hand to rest it atop Feliciano's head, in a pat. (Ivan had to remember to control his strength- he didn't want to press down too hard.) Feliciano seemed startled by the fond touch, but perked up a little, leaning into the touch as his wings fluttered slightly in delight.

"Do not worry about it. Just focus on taking better care of yourself. Do not forget that all of our lives may depend on your well-being," Ivan reminded, suddenly making Feliciano feel very much under pressure, doing the exact opposite of reassuring him.

Just as Russia made his move to leave, Feliciano suddenly piped up again. "A-Ah, wait! Sir…?" Feliciano asked, catching Ivan's sleeve. Ivan turned and raised an eyebrow at him, before responding.

"Call me Ivan. It is only fair," he said simply. "And what is it?"

"…were you serious, a little while ago, when you said that I could still fly?" Feliciano asked hopefully.

Ivan felt something inside him shift at that moment. Hearing Feliciano's voice, so innocent, hopeful, trusting, but also vulnerable- it made something click, and he ended up giving him a very soft smile. "Da. I think you very well could become a wonderful flier."

Feliciano blushed darkly, stunned by the sight of the smile now aimed in his direction, as well as the kind words, and he was left terribly flustered. "…g-grazie, Ivan," he murmured very quietly.

Ivan only nodded and took his leave, leaving Feliciano standing in his office to get back to work.

Feliciano wondered why his heart was pounding.

* * *

"Feli! Tell me it isn't true!" Feliks burst into Feliciano's office a few hours later, panting and looking as if he'd flown over to the medic tents as fast as his wings would allow. Feliciano was understandably startled, and took a moment to stare at Feliks in confusion before responding.

"…that… _what_ isn't true?" Feliciano asked, tilting his head at Feliks. Had he missed something while he had been working? He continued to work on filling out all the forms and paperwork, while he waited for Feliks to explain himself.

"I heard this totally crazy rumor that you came out of Russia's tent this morning," Feliks said. "That's not true, right? I mean, you're not, like- sleeping with him, or something-"

Feliciano turned scarlet and squeaked, his first response being to throw his pen at Feliks. "_Of course not!_" Feliciano said in response, his voice going up an octave from shock and embarrassment. "T-That would be completely unprofessional!" he said, feeling his face burning as more blood rushed to his cheeks.

"Feli, no offense, but you've never really been the 'professional' type, so I kinda have trouble believing that," Feliks said, huffing and sitting down in the chair opposite Feliciano's desk, pinning him with a stare that demanded answers. "So what's going on? Spill it, Fels, and it better not be what I think it is... he's totally not the right guy for you!"

Feliciano wanted to just melt into the floor.

"_Feliks_! I'm not dating him, or sleeping with him, or anything!" he protested. "If you really want to know what's going on, someone's been wrecking and stealing my tent and messing with my things, so I haven't had a safe place to stay in a while…" he admitted, with a sigh. "Ivan found me nesting in the forest and basically dragged me back to his tent so I wouldn't have to sleep in the rain."

Feliks blinked at Feliciano for a moment.

"…Feli, that's like, almost crazier than the 'sleeping with him' idea," he responded after a moment, and Feliciano resisted the urge to slam his head down into the desk.

"But Feliks, he's really not as bad as you think! He's actually really nice, when you get to know him-"

"Feli, are you crazy? He's totally batshit, and everyone knows it, okay? Besides, you've hung around him for like, what, two days? You can't know that!"

"He was _kind _to me!" Feliciano whined. "I crashed into him a day or two ago and he didn't even mind, and he's been protecting me, and helping take care of me, and he even said that I could still be a good flier if I practiced! And- and he even jokes a little, sometimes, and he has a nice laugh-"

Feliks was staring at him as if he was an alien, and Feliciano suddenly turned red and quieted down.

"I would be suspicious if I were you, Fels…" Feliks said, with a furrowed brow, looking a little concerned as he folded his arms. "Russia's totally not the kind to be all nice without trying to get something out of it. He's not safe."

Feliciano was reminded briefly of the small hint of danger in one of Ivan's veiled threats, but even then, he couldn't bring himself to believe that Ivan was really as bad as everyone said. There had to be something more to him than just the dangerous psychopath people thought him to be.

"Feliks… I don't think he's that bad… I mean, sure, he had some bad times in the past, but haven't we all…?" Feliciano tried to reason, always trying to see the good in people as per usual.

Feliks sighed. "Look, that's true, but still… be careful, alright? And don't stay with him longer than you have to. Who knows what he's up to," he grumbled. "I'd let you stay with me in my tent, but I already have a roommate, and I don't think he'd be too thrilled to get another one. Our tent isn't as big as the higher-ups' are."

"Don't worry, Feliks! I'm sure I'll be fine, okay?" Feliciano assured, giving Feliks an optimistic smile. Feliks couldn't help but return it a bit.

"Well, if Russia ever decided to be nice to someone, I guess it would be to you, Feli," Feliks said with a laugh. "It's kind of hard to be mean to you," he added, with a grin.

Feliciano turned scarlet. "Some of the others wouldn't agree…"

"Oh, you mean those bullies? Like you said, I'm sure they'll get bored and leave you alone eventually- but if they don't, I'll kick their butts, alright?" Feliks said cheerfully, grinning confidently. Feliciano only laughed.

"Ve, I don't think Toris would be happy to hear you were getting into trouble without him around…"

"Puh-lease, Fels. He only knows what I send him in letters, so it's fine," Feliks said mischievously, resting his hands on the back of his head. "And Toris isn't _that_ much of a stick in the mud. He's pretty cool most of the time."

"He always seems to reluctant to go along with your plans… ah, that reminds me, I heard he was injured! Are his wings alright?" Feliciano asked, worriedly. Feliks became more serious, and sat up a bit straighter.

"Yeah, his wings are fine- but he got stabbed with an energy bolt to the side. He needs a few more days of bedrest, even though his medics healed the wound, just to be sure he's alright again before flying."

"That's terrible… I hope he'll be okay."

"Don't worry, Liet will pull through! He's tough, you know," Feliks boasted, proud of his best friend. "But anywho, I should get back to drills before the sergeant figures out I'm gone."

"Y-You're skipping your drills?! Feliks, you'll get in major trouble!"

"Fff, don't worry about it, there's too many of us for him to realize I'm gone," Feliks said with a laugh. "Besides, when I heard that rumor I totally knew there might be trouble on your plate, so I had to come check on you. Total emergency," he said, nodding to himself.

"Ah, grazie for worrying, but I'm really alright. I don't think there's anything to be worried about, with Ivan, I mean…" he murmured.

"….You're blushing."

"E-Eh? Am I?"

"You totally are. You're calling him Ivan and you're blushing and you're staying in his tent- you are _so _sleeping with him," Feliks accused, pointing a finger dramatically.

"I-I'm not! I mean, we shared a bed, b-but we didn't… _do_ anything!" Feliciano squeaked, trying to bury his scarlet face into his hands.

"I _knew_ it! You _were _sleeping with him!"

"But Feliks-"

"Hey, I never said it was in a sexual way."

"…you're terrible."

"I know, but that's why you love me, right, Feli?" Feliks said with a laugh, patting Feliciano heartily on the back as he grinned. "But yeah, that's still a little worrisome, so like… don't let him get too close or anything. He might be up to something sinister and trying to lull you into a false sense of security!"

"You're starting to sound like Gil, Feliks," Feliciano mused, being reminded of Prussia thanks to his friend's eccentric (and paranoid) behavior regarding Ivan.

"Oh, ew, no way. I'm not bonkers like he is," Feliks said, shaking his head.

"Aw, but Gil's really sweet! I like him," Feliciano chirped.

"You like _everyone._"

"….not _everyone._"

"The bullies don't count."

"…"

"But yeah, I should get back to drills now. See you at dinner, Feli~!" Feliks chirped innocently, before darting out of his tent.

Feliciano tried to get rid of the blushing on his cheeks, and then got back to work, finishing up his paperwork and trying not to think too much about Feliks' warnings- or about Ivan.

Why was everything suddenly so confusing?

* * *

**A/N: And there goes the third chapter! I got it out in a decent amount of time, right? I hope so!**

**Thanks for reading, drop a review?**


	4. Lesson One

**A/N: Alright, so it's time to get this new chapter cranked out. I hope this is good for everyone~!**

**Review replies:**

**ScienceWolf: I'm so glad you think so! I like trying to explore their characters more and show lights to them that I think people often forget about. Russia unfortunately is one of the characters most misunderstood and ostracized by the fandom, and they turn him into this monster when canonically he's described as a "big, gentle, naïve country who is always looking for friends." He does have a "child-like cruelty," but it doesn't make him this monster a lot of people portray him to be. I hope I can do a good job.**

**On to the story~!**

* * *

Feliciano's work came to a close abruptly, when another one of the lieutenants entered his tent looking very unamused. Feliciano quickly quieted, feeling himself shrink back slightly under the stern gaze he was receiving.

"Medic Vargas, you've been skipping your flight training sessions again," he said, giving Feliciano a look that clearly read that he was going to be taken to flight training regardless of whether he wanted to or not.

"I've been busy!" Feliciano tried to protest, continuing to treat his patients, trying to look busy so that the other man would hopefully leave him alone. "And besides, no one wants me there anyway," he huffed, not wanting to deal with more soldiers who would jeer at him just because he couldn't fly.

"How do you expect to improve your flying if you never practice?" the lieutenant asked next, seeming rather aggravated with Feliciano's constant and stubborn refusal to go to train for an hour.

"How do you expect me to improve in an atmosphere like that?" Feliciano retorted, a bit softly. He didn't want to try and improve in a place where no matter how hard he tried, he would only be impeded and tricked and cast spells on. He wondered if maybe mentioning Ivan's words would help… "Besides, General Ivan says he would look into my case for alternative training options…." he said, hoping that the lieutenant would back off if he said so.

Raising an eyebrow at him, the man replied, "Is that so? So you wouldn't mind coming with me to see him and be sure?" Feliciano turned scarlet, wondering if his bluff would be called. While Ivan had said that he would "look into" Feliciano's situation, he had never outright said that it would be about how to change his training measures. He could get in trouble for this…

But he nodded, and was hauled off to go see Ivan.

* * *

Ivan was currently in a meeting with Estonia and a few other strategists, planning their next battles and how to best combat their enemies' offenses. Heracles was with them, having just returned from delivering information from the squadron in the north about the current situation. As the meeting continued, the world map before them became riddled with figures and flags, as they tried to figure out which line of attack would be best to try and force the enemy troops back.

The fighting had been going on for so long now- it looked like they would win.

The battles around the world had quieted and ended, and now, the sole battlefields left were in Europe, and some of the Asian coast. After two years of war, most battles had been decided and won, and in the Freedom Forces' favor. But one never knew when a battle could turn the tide all over again, so the forces on their own side were battling hard and trying to ensure their continued success, while the enemy forces were still fighting hard to try and redeem themselves and push through to victory. On these fronts, battles could be decisive, crucial, deadly- and it showed in how fiercely men would try to win.

"How is the northern division doing?" Ivan asked, as he considered all the troops' positions, looking over the map before glancing at Heracles. (They were stationed near the border of Italy and France, battling back Spanish and French forces. The northern group was stationed along the coast of Germany.)

"Things are troubled. The Seasplit forces keep trying to force their way into Nordic territory, but their neutrality keeps us from coming in to help them unless our help is requested. They're fending the attacks off on their own, while the northern group fights from the German shore to try and force away Seasplit fighters before they can reach the Nordics. It's the most we can do, considering the circumstances. The English troops are also flying out from their islands, and they're helping a great deal. But with them being preoccupied with dealing with France on the north side, they can't help as much as they could," Heracles explained, reading carefully from the report he'd delivered back.

"I see…" Eduard hummed. "Well, look at it this way. If we can move further into France and prevent their forces from continuing to advance North, that frees up the troops in the UK the fight off invading Seasplit forces from the Nordics- and with the group in Germany also pitching in, we could easily force them down into a surrender."

Ivan nodded. "But it would take a mass movement- at least half of our corps would have to go into battle at once, leaving the camps vulnerable," he pointed out, moving a few figures on the map. "It would not be wise to leave it undefended."

Another strategist piped up. "Sir, the forces fighting from Greece have managed to bring Turkey into a surrender-" (Heracles smirked at that.) "-so, with help from their now freed up troops, we could have plenty of men still at camp to protect it and help the wounded."

"Ah? Is that so? That is interesting news…" Ivan hummed, looking over to a board.

On the board were two columns, one labeled "Freedom" and one labeled "Seasplit." Under "Freedom" were the names UK, USA, Italy, Russia, Greece, Germany, Japan, Canada, Poland, Lithuania, Estonia, Latvia, and Hungary. Under "Seasplit" were the names China, France, Spain, Turkey, Egypt, Portugal, India, Vietnam, Thailand. Of those names, neutralized threats had been crossed out- Egypt, Vietnam, Thailand, and India were all crossed out.

Ivan went over to the board and crossed out "Turkey" next.

"However, the Chinese masses of troops are making the front on the Asian coast difficult- Japan and Canada are having issues keeping them in check, and the group coming into attack the North from Russia is also being kept at bay," another messenger said. "If anything, those troops might go and try to strike down China."

"Send a message to them. The forces on the Asian front have enough numbers for now, at least to keep China at bay," Ivan hummed after a moment. "For the time being, it would be better if we could get the Grecian group's help to neutralize Spain and France." He turned back to the other strategists. "Are we in agreement?"

"Yes, sir," came the set of responses. Ivan nodded and looked over at Heracles once more. "I'll prepare a message today. Tomorrow you must go send it, and quickly.

Heracles gave a yawn. "At least let it wait until noon. I just returned this morning from another delivery," he reminded sleepily. Ivan nodded.

"At noon, then. Go rest."

Heracles nodded and took his leave, and as he left the tent, he bumped into Feliciano, who was being ushered towards the tent by the lieutenant. Quickly distracted, Feliciano started to bounce and excitedly took Heracles' hands in greeting. "Hera~! Ciao, ciao! I didn't think I'd get to see you so soon! I've been switched over to this group!" he said, delighted to see a friend. Heracles gave Feliciano a sleepy smile.

"Hello, Feliciano. It's good to see you. Ah, are you in trouble already…?" he mused, looking over at the lieutenant who was impatiently waiting for Feliciano to finish his chat. Feliciano blushed and turned red.

"Not exactly," Feliciano said sheepishly. "They're getting on me about flight training…" he murmured. At the thought, he looked over at Heracles' wings curiously. They were a very pale blue, and powerful. Large and streamlined, his gull-type wings allowed for fast gliding and easy flight over long distances with less energy- which made him a perfect (and rather quick) messenger. While most people's wings left Feliciano feeling a little envious, Heracles' wings especially caught his eye- they were so useful, and he only wished his own were too.

"I see. You ought to not keep them waiting," Heracles hummed, before giving a yawn and a stretch. "And I think I will go catch up on sleep. See you at dinner," he said, giving Feliciano a little pat on the head and moving along back to his tent. Heracles, being one of Feliciano's elders, often tended to treat him like a younger brother or cousin, and Feliciano didn't mind it at all.

Feliciano wished he could've talked longer, but he knew that Heracles was likely very worn out from the long flight, and sighed as he was pushed along into the strategists' tent. Luckily, the meeting had wrapped up, so they weren't in danger of interrupting anything.

"General Braginski. This is the one who keeps skipping his training," the lieutenant announced and he pushed Feliciano forward, as if to present him. Ivan looked up from the strategy map, looking serious, until he caught sight of Feliciano giving him a sheepish smile and a slightly pleading look that said "help!"

Ivan sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I am aware. He is going to be participating in individual flight sessions from now on," he said to the lieutenant, who was startled.

"Really? So he wasn't lying then, when he said that you were thinking of something?"

"No. He was not lying," Ivan said steadily, although he regarded Feliciano with a bit of a scolding look. Feliciano only blushed and gave a tiny shrug, wrapping himself up in his wings a bit defensively. Suddenly quirking his lips into a smirk, though, Ivan added, "I will be training him _personally._"

Feliciano felt himself pale immediately from anxiety. To be trained by Ivan sounded incredibly daunting and difficult, not to mention scary. He was nice company, but everyone knew how brutal Ivan could be when he trained his men. It was like there was a switch for his behavior and someone kept erratically flipping it on and off.

The lieutenant seemed rather satisfied with this, and gave a nod before taking his leave. Feliciano, however, quickly trotted over to Ivan. "Y-You weren't being serious, were you?" he asked, seeming anxious.

"Of course I was serious. Why would I not be?" Ivan hummed, still smirking a bit. He reached over to pat Feliciano's head, ruffling up the hair a bit. "You'll now be my charge, when it comes to flight training," Ivan said, seeming rather bright about it.

"Why do you sound so happy about it…" Feliciano muttered, knowing that he was a train wreck waiting to happen. Why would anyone even bother trying to train him, let alone seem so happy about having to?

"Simple, Feliciano. I would very much like to see you fly," Ivan said, giving Feliciano an unreadable look that unnerved the Italian the slightest bit. "And I would like you to learn where you are safe to take your time and make mistakes," he added, his gaze softening the slightest bit, making Feliciano's cheeks heat up considerably as he continued to relax under the (surprisingly) gentle pats to his head. He felt his anxiety nearly instantly wash away at the second half of Ivan's speech.

"When do we start…?" Feliciano asked, still a bit stunned to know that Ivan was offering him this help and protection, in a way.

"Right now. Come," Ivan said, turning and leading the way out. Feliciano seemed startled, and quickly trotted along to keep up, wondering where they were heading.

"Already… Just like that?" Feliciano asked, as Ivan led them both further away from the camps and through the forest, until they reached a wide clearing.

"Just like that," Ivan hummed in response, seeming a bit amused by Feliciano once more. "Here. This place does not have nearly so many trees, da? So you should not have much issues- at least with crashing into those. Crashing into the ground, however…" he trailed off, giving Feliciano a bit of a teasing look. Feliciano turned scarlet once more and instinctively batted at Ivan's arm, playfully.

"Q-Quit teasing…" he said, pouting.

"I will 'quit teasing' when you actually accomplish a stable flight," Ivan said, giving him a little goal. "Now, take off."

"Right now?"

"Yes. Now."

Feliciano seemed confused, but he outstretched his wings and raised them, and just as he was about to beat his wings down to take off, Ivan suddenly said, "Stop." The Italian froze in confusion, nearly falling over thanks to the momentum he'd used just to raise up his wings throwing him forward slightly.

"W-What did you stop me for? You just told me to take off!" Feliciano protested, looking over at Ivan as the taller man stepped closer to him and started to run his hands over his wings. He turned a bit red. "…Ivan, what are you doing?"

"Your wing alignment is off, first of all," Ivan said bluntly, as his hands moved along Feliciano's wings. He would move and shift them, until he deemed them in the "proper" alignment. "That should be better. Memorize this position and how it feels," Ivan instructed. Feliciano felt a bit strange- his wings were higher now, a bit more angled and bent.

"…is this really going to make a difference?" Feliciano asked next, feeling a bit doubtful.

"Of course it is. I would not have wasted the time otherwise," Ivan said back, sounding a bit irritated at the suggestion. "I've noticed that when you attempt to take off, the alignment throws you to the left. It's what makes you scramble to steady yourself when flight starts. And there was not enough air under the beat, which is why you couldn't get enough air and height beneath you to start actual flight. Now try it this way," Ivan instructed, sounding stern as he stepped back to give Feliciano enough room.

The Italian felt a bit intimidated, not to mention put on the spot. But he tried again, this time trying his best to get his wings aligned in the way Ivan had shown him, before beating them down and taking flight. To his immense shock, he actually went _up_ and not to the sides, not spinning towards the ground- he went straight up, and as he continued to beat his wings, he started to laugh. He was a bit too excited, though, and once he started trying to actually fly forwards, he started veering off to the side, his lack of flight feathers making control and stability rather difficult.

He quickly went down again, landing in a bit of a mess onto the grass. He quivered a bit from the ache of impact, before slowly sitting up again, feeling whatever hope he had for flight instantly fade again.

A hand on his shoulder prompted him to look up. Ivan was standing over him, and he said. "At least you got the take-off right this time, da?" he said, offering Feliciano an amused smile. "Are you injured?"

"S-Si, that's true… and no, I'm fine," Feliciano assured. He was used to crashing, and he figured that the worst that could happen was he got a bit bruised or scraped.

"Good. Try it again. This time, you can at least work on trying to smooth out your landings, so that when you actually start working on your flight itself, it does not end with you crashing every time," Ivan said. "When you wish to land, angle your body back slightly, and beat your wings toward the ground to soften the landing. The air under your wings will rush against the ground and propel you back, just enough to balance out the force with which you come down to land, allowing for a steady landing."

"You make it sound so complicated and scientific," Feliciano responded, before getting up and preparing to take off again. "Are you sure this'll work…?"

"It should work as long as you come down straight. As you get more practice you can land while turning and other more complicated maneuvers," Ivan explained. "Go ahead," he ordered more than suggested, nudging Feliciano forward.

Feliciano spread his wings again, a bit nervously. After taking a deep breath to try and calm his nerves, he took off again, happy to see that he could at least take off well now- although his hopes crashed once more as his flight became erratic once more. He was flapping his wings a bit frantically once he was in the air, though, trying his hardest to fly in a line as opposed to a very clumsy and unstable mess. When he saw himself heading right towards the ground, he panicked, and flapped his wings back down towards the ground to slow himself down. And he landed on a clumsy run, but at least this time he didn't outright crash.

"…I… did it! …sort of!" he said, with a breathless laugh, looking down at his feet as if in disbelief that he'd actually landed properly. He looked back up and over at Ivan hopefully, wondering if he'd be met with approval.

Ivan gave him a small nod. "It is not the most graceful landing, but it was at least not a crash. With more practice, you should be fine. For today, I think practicing take-offs and landings should be enough. We can work on actual flight next time."

Feliciano seemed disappointed. "W-Wait, really? This is all I get to learn today?"

"It is not good to rush into things when you have not mastered the skills that come before it," Ivan said sternly. "I expect you to come here and train even without me. Otherwise you will not ever hope to improve." The Italian nodded in understanding, knowing that it was true- but still, he felt rather reluctant to come all the way out here on his own every day.

He couldn't complain though- it was certainly much better than going to the group training grounds and being mercilessly knocked out of the sky….

He hummed and got ready to try again- surely it wouldn't take too long to get this skill mastered, right?

* * *

A few hours later, Feliciano was exhausted, having been flying (well, attempting to fly) and practicing his landings and take-offs nonstop. Ivan ended up being just as strict and harsh as the rumors said.

At the beginning of the session, Ivan had seemed rather kind and encouraging, but by the end, he was just chuckling in amusement as Feliciano whined and crashed from how tired he was.

"Ivaaan… I-I really don't think I can do anymore today," Feliciano panted, stubbornly refusing to get up from his spot on the ground.

"Ah… is that so? Maybe just one more time, and then we can go," Ivan said in response, still smirking a bit.

"…that's what you said an hour ago…"

"Was it? I seem to have lost track of time," Ivan said next, a bit of a wicked grin on his face.

Ivan really was a merciless trainer, after all…!

But when Feliciano's eyes shut and he whimpered, the grin faltered, and Ivan knelt down beside him.

"Feliciano?"

"…hurts…" was all that Feliciano panted in reply, curling up a bit in an odd attempt to try and soothe himself of the aches all over his body. He wasn't used to such exertion- he guessed now that this was probably why Ludwig had been so insistent on him training before he was switched to this new group.

Ivan sighed. "You need a lot more training. I thought that Germany was assigned to train you before you came here. But I suppose he was too lax with you, as always," he hummed, not seeming too pleased. "I knew we should have assigned someone you didn't have wrapped around your finger."

"He's not wrapped around my finger," Feliciano protested, cheeks turning scarlet. "He's just nice." He continued to rest curled up on the ground, panting a bit as sweat dripped down his forehead.

"I doubt that. You can be rather manipulative, too, can you not?" Ivan said a bit, smirking down at him in a way that made Feliciano feel awfully flustered.

"I'm not like that."

"Aren't you?" Ivan said, chuckling a little. "I would've thought otherwise, with how you attempted to earn my sympathy just now."

"…and you think… I'm faking this, then…" Feliciano replied, still panting, seeming a bit offended.

"Forgive me if I doubt your sentiments," Ivan said in response, seeming amused.

Feliciano gave Ivan a look, one that was tired and now, also irritated. It was a change from the usual peppiness and naïve playfulness that the Italian radiated.

Ivan smiled. "So you do have a bit of fight in you, after all…"

Feliciano pouted and whacked him with a wing as a response, and Ivan laughed.

* * *

**A/N: And I think that's a good spot to stop it at for now. Gave you some more background and setting in this chapter, as well as an idea of what's going on in their world, so I feel good.**

**How was it?**

**Drop a review?**


	5. Chess

**A/N: Sorry this chapter took so long, guys! College work has been catching up to me, and the schedule is super busy. On top of that, I lost my muse for a while because my uncle passed away, and I wasn't really in the mood to write for a long time. But I hope you'll forgive me and accept this chapter!**

**Review reply:**

**Meow: Don't worry! You'll definitely see him quite a bit in this fic, he just doesn't come in until later.**

**Enjoy the new chapter, everyone~!**

* * *

When Feliciano finally was allowed to stop and head to dinner, he was exhausted, sore, and not in the best of moods.

As he trudged along, he pouted and sulked. "You're terrible," he mumbled to Ivan, who was walking beside him with a rather smug look on his face.

"I get that a lot," Ivan hummed, smiling softly, but there was a hint of bitterness in his voice. Feliciano caught that tone, and quieted, wondering if he'd offended him, or brought up bad thoughts.

"Dispiace," Feliciano murmured softly next, just to be safe. Ivan only gave him a quick pat on the head as forgiveness, and continued walking. "I think I'll head to the showers first, though…" Feliciano said next, feeling a mess from all the physical exertion, along with all the crashes he'd made onto the ground today. He could use a good clean up. He veered off the path, heading for the showers, and Ivan followed along, confusing him. "…are you coming too?"

"I might as well shower while there is free time," Ivan hummed. "Later on I may end up caught up in another meeting."

"Even though it's late?"

"Information is always coming in; new plans must always be made. There is much that goes on in the mapping and planning tent that you are likely not aware of," Ivan explained.

As they entered the showers, Ivan went off to a place designated for higher-ups, staying out of the way and out of sight of the human soldiers. He had many scars on his body, all from his long and bloody history, and he'd rather no one saw them, not even other Nations.

(And yet, the night before, some odd notion had compelled him to show them to Feliciano by removing his shirt when they'd been undressing for bed.)

Feliciano followed along, grateful for the fact that he had access to that private area as well. He paled at the thought of ever having to shower with the humans, as being so exposed among people who ostracized him would likely be a very bad idea. He went to his own stall, stripping himself of his clothes and setting them aside in a locker, before setting to finally washing off.

The warm water was soothing on his sore muscles, and he gave a contented sigh, feeling the sweat and dirt rinsed off of him as he lathered himself up with soap. He healed up some minor cuts and scrapes on his skin, but left the bruises alone- they would take up much more energy to heal, and he had to conserve energy as much as he could. As long as he didn't have any open wounds, he figured that he'd be alright.

He reluctantly shut off the water when he'd finished washing off his hair and body, and then walked out of his shower stall to grab a towel from the rack. Feeling delighted, he found that there were still some big towels left, and he quickly grabbed one and wrapped himself up in the fluffy white material, drying himself off. He suddenly felt a very warm (and apparently very well-built) body pressing up against his back and wings, and he squeaked, turning scarlet. An arm reached over his shoulder to reach for a towel, and once the towel was grabbed, the body pulled back.

Feliciano whirled around to find Ivan drying himself off, and he immediately protested. "W-What was that for?" he asked, cheeks burning, feeling terribly flustered.

"I was simply getting a towel," Ivan replied nonchalantly, starting to dry himself off. Feliciano turned scarlet at the sight and looked away, forcing himself to tear his eyes off of Ivan's very well-built and toned body.

"You could've just asked me to move," Feliciano said in reply, drying himself off, stubbornly facing away from his commanding officer to avoid getting caught looking at him.

"It was faster this way," Ivan hummed, vigorously drying off his hair, before smirking and reaching out to do the same for Feliciano. The Italian gasped in surprise and squeaked, before altogether starting to laugh as his hair was ruffled this way and that by the towel. It was a lot like how Lovino would rigorously dry off his hair after their showers- and it made him laugh.

"You didn't have to do that, either," Feliciano finally commented, when Ivan stopped messing with and drying his hair. He wrapped his towel around his waist, and went back over to where he'd set his clothes, making sure he was completely dry before getting dressed again. He seemed to be having trouble getting his wings dry, though, and as a result, didn't want to put on the top half of his uniform.

"There are many things I do not have to do," Ivan hummed. "I do them anyways. For example, your training today." Ivan got dressed as well, stretching a bit afterwards and shaking out his wings to be sure that no water was clinging to his feathers.

Feliciano blushed slightly. "I guess that's true… grazie, for training me," he said softly, rather grateful for the help (even though Ivan had been a bit of a slave-driver). He continued to shake out his wings, using a spare towel to dry the fluffy feathers and get the water off of the places he just couldn't seem to shake it out from. After a bit of struggling to reach parts of his wings, though, Ivan sighed and took the towel, setting to drying him off himself.

"A-Ah… dispiace," Feliciano apologized again, feeling terribly embarrassed that Ivan had deemed it necessary to help him even with this simple task.

"It was not a problem training you. If anything, it was rather entertaining," the man hummed, making Feliciano turn scarlet and puff his cheeks out indignantly. But Ivan continued to gently pat dry Feliciano's wings, until he was sure they were dry. He noted with slight surprise that the Italian was rather relaxed and calm under his touch- he couldn't think of many people who would let him touch their wings.

And for Feliciano especially, to let him touch his wings… he must truly trust him, as he'd noticed that the smaller male was very, very paranoid about protecting his wings from others.

"Grazie," Feliciano murmured softly, stretching out his wings and shaking them out a bit, just to be sure they were completely dry. He then slipped on his shirt and jacket, after carefully sliding his wings through the openings on the back of his clothes, and buttoned everything back up.

Ivan nodded in response, wrapping his scarf around his neck, before putting on his boots and heading back out. Feliciano trotted along behind him, stretching his wings again, before tightly tucking them back in, protectively.

"Are we going to dinner?" Feliciano asked, as he followed Ivan along. Ivan nodded once more, and Feliciano fell silent. Ivan didn't seem to be feeling in much of a talking mood right now- the man seemed rather quiet overall. "…am I still staying in your tent tonight…?"

Another nod.

Feliciano felt slightly anxious, but didn't mind too much. He'd slept rather peacefully the night before- and he wouldn't mind getting a comfortable sleep like that again.

When the two arrived at the dining hall and got their meals, they went to sit at their usual tables. Feliciano was delighted to see Heracles at the table today to join them, along with Eduard, who seemed to be out of a meeting this time. That seemed to make the whole group of nations here.

Feliks grinned at Feliciano as he sat down.

"You look totally exhausted, what have you been doing?" Feliks asked, as he ate his dinner.

Feliciano glanced over at Ivan. "Flight training," he whined, nearly flopping down into his seat, before starting to eat as well. "With Ivan."

Feliks' eyes widened. "What? No way! Is that what they made you do for skipping it all the time?"

"How did you know I was-"

"Feli, I know you. Of course you skipped flight training."

Feliciano pouted, but didn't argue it. "But si, that's what I have to do from now on… train by myself, or with Ivan. On the bright side, I think I might actually learn to fly…!" he said excitedly. Feliks' concerned look morphed to one of delight.

"Really? That's great, Fels!" Feliks congratulated, before returning to his meal. "You'll see, soon you'll be a great flier."

It wasn't as if many of Feliciano's friends and family hadn't tried to teach him to fly in the past. In fact, most of them had at one point or another, but for a number of reasons, the lessons never got very far, and Feliciano's flight patterns never improved. (Some of those reasons included: Feliciano being spoiled rotten, no one having the heart to push him past his limits, and lack of patience on the teacher's part. For Feliks, the reason he lessons never got that far was because Feliks' attention span was just as limited as Feliciano's.)

Arthur looked up from his spellbook (he never seemed to go anywhere without it) and gave Feliciano a curious look. "So you've finally set to training yourself? It's about time," he scolded slightly. "I was wondering how our head medic would function if they kept skipping flight training…" Feliciano blushed slightly from shame.

"Ivan's been the one pushing me to fly…" Feliciano murmured, glancing over at the Russian again. Ivan seemed to be focused on something else, though, eyes carefully trained on a few soldiers across the room. He seemed suspicious of them, but upon hearing his name, he turned his head to look at Feliciano.

"You need the push, Feliciano," Ivan scolded in response, giving an amused smirk. "Pushing the baby bird out of its nest to _force_ it to fly, so to speak."

Feliciano suddenly felt terrified.

"Hey! I swear, if you try pushing Feli off a cliff, I will so be on your ass about it!" Feliks protested, protective once more. Feliciano only laughed and tried to calm Feliks down.

"D-Don't worry, I'm sure he won't do anything like that…!" Feliciano reassured, before quickly turning to face Ivan. "…will you?"

Ivan only chuckled in response. "We'll see," he hummed, seeming terribly amused by how Feliciano paled, eyes wide.

"You shouldn't tease him so much, Ivan," Eduard responded, continuing to eat and giving the Russian an almost chiding look.

"Ah, but it's fun," Ivan chuckled, smirking back down at the now very flustered Italian. "He either gets very pale or very red. It's interesting to watch him change colors," he mused, watching Feliciano's cheeks burn a brighter shade of red.

Eduard only laughed at that, and gave Feliciano an apologetic look. "Sorry about him. It's his way of playing with others," he said softly, using a hand to whisper across the table to Feliciano. Eduard was much more used to Ivan's behavior than most people, since he, the other two Baltics, and Russia's sisters had both lived under Ivan's control at one time. Especially with his analytic nature, Eduard had been more able to read Ivan's behavior accurately.

"Playing with others…?" Feliciano murmured to himself. So Ivan "played" by teasing and messing with people? Did that mean that Ivan had been playing with him all this time, by pushing him past his limits and teasing him?

…does that mean he was really actually being friendly, in his own odd way?

Feliciano glanced over at Ivan thoughtfully, musing over this new bit of information.

Ivan really was nicer than everyone made him out to be… it was just that no one else really understood him.

As the Nations all continued their meal, Feliciano slowly relaxed, deciding that it would be alright to stretch his wings a little bit. He felt a bit safer knowing that he was around stronger nations that hopefully no one would want to mess with, and he might have the chance to stretch his wings without anyone deciding to trod on them or burn them. To his delight, he could- a few minutes passed, but no one hurt him, and that was an accomplishment for the Italian.

When he finished eating, he looked over at where Arthur was still perusing his spellbook. "You always have that with you… is it important?" he asked curiously, trying to make sense of the runes on the pages in the book.

"Of course it is. It's a spellbook. Haven't you seen one before?"

"Not one like _that_," Feliciano specified, pouting a bit at how Arthur had spoken to him. He pointed at the runes in confusion. "These markings are so strange… how do you read it?"

"Ah… I supposed this old language would be the equivalent of Latin in your home," Arthur explained. "It's just something I still remember to read. Ancient spells do tend to be more powerful."

"I have a few Latin spellbooks, but really, aren't the modern ones just fine…?" Feliciano asked, thinking that it would be much easier to just use a modern spellbook in today's languages.

Arthur scoffed. "And this is why you aren't a mage."

Feliciano huffed and felt insulted, looking away. Once the initial indignation faded, though, he was simply left feeling stupid, and he quieted down, keeping any more questions he had to himself.

"Like, totally rude, Artie," Feliks said in a low whine, also pouting, before patting Feliciano's back comfortingly.

"It… was… a bit harsh…" Heracles added on slowly, after a moment.

"What? I was just stating the truth!" Arthur replied, before sighing. "Fine. Perhaps I did word it a bit harshly, but the point is, ancient spellbooks often have a lot more knowledge than modern texts. Alright?" he said next, looking at Feliciano to see if he'd understood.

Feliciano nodded quietly and instead took his tray and got up to put it away.

Once Feliciano had stepped away, Ivan spoke up, looking over at the Englishman. "Ah… I think you upset him, England~ I don't think he'll be too willing to heal you," he hummed, seeming amused, a glint in his eye. "If you were to get hurt~"

Arthur shivered, getting the hint. "Alright, alright… I'll apologize."

Ivan only hummed once more in response, before getting up to put his own tray away.

When Ivan had left, Arthur asked, "Is it just me, or does Russia seem a bit too keen on protecting Italy?"

"He is the head medic. Duh," Feliks replied. "Anyone would have to protect Feli."

"Although… Feliciano is… admittedly… a rather important piece… I don't think it means that… Ivan has ulterior motives," Heracles added thoughtfully, choosing his words carefully. "He is simply defending the key piece."

"Key piece?" Arthur asked, looking up from his spellbook again.

Eduard spoke up. "Ah, well, think of it this way. Ivan likes chess, so let's think chess. All the soldiers here, all the troops, could be the army on our chessboard. If we go by the pattern that the foot soldiers are pawns, and lieutenants are rooks… and so on, almost everyone has some sort of role on the playing field. Now, let's say a battle starts and the game begins. Who are people going to be aiming for?"

"The king, of course," Arthur replied.

"But who would the king be in a battle?"

"The general."

"Not quite," Eduard replied, analyzing things already as he tended to do. "The head medic. Think about it. The weakest piece, although in a way it is the highest rank. It's very mobile, more so than the pawn, for example. But in the end, it cannot go very far on its own, and cannot defend itself well. So who primarily stays close to the king to protect it?"

"…the queen."

"Exactly, the most powerful piece. In which case would be our general. The head medic circles the general and heals him, keeping him fit for battle- but if one were to take down the head medic, the other medics would eventually fall out of order and the queen would end up incapacitated, and the battle is lost as the army falls to pieces."

"So Russia sees Feli as the 'king' in the chess game, then? That's like, a totally weird way to think of things," Feliks commented.

"Well, chess was built upon the concept of war and battle. It's not unusual for one to relate them like this," Eduard added, with a shrug. "Healers have always been associated with the position of the king in a chess game. The king and queen circle each other to ensure success, staying close- and we all know that the king can't go out to battle alone to try and defend the queen alone. It must always be the queen defending the king."

"Otherwise, the king throws himself into something he can't win, and the battle is lost," Arthur hummed, agreeing. "I see your point. Still, it just feels odd, seeing him looking after someone, even if it is for his own benefit in the end."

"What are you guys talking about?" Feliciano asked, sitting back down as he arrived back at the table.

"Oh, nothing… just chess," Heracles hummed, finishing his own meal at that point. Feliciano tilted his head slightly in confusion, but didn't question it.

Arthur took the chance to look up at Feliciano and give him a rather brief apology for his behavior- although his refusal to make eye contact, along with the redness on his cheeks, showed that Arthur wasn't quite happy with having to apologize.

"Ah… d-don't worry about it," Feliciano murmured in response, not sure how to take it. He was going to take the chance to catch up with Heracles, and talk to the others some more, but he felt someone nudging at his shoulder, and looked up to see Ivan nudging him with a wing.

"Come. You should rest after today," Ivan instructed, before using his wing to altogether nudge Feliciano from his seat.

"O-Oh, alright! Ah, ciao, guys!" Feliciano said, waving to the others before he was led out. "Ivan, stop pushing. I know where we're going," he mumbled, using his own wing to bat at Ivan's as they headed towards the exit.

As they left the dining hall, though, they were greeted with rain, and Feliciano sighed in dismay. "Not more rain…" He set to running through it all the way across the camps to where Ivan's tent was located- Ivan took his time, not as fazed by the water as Feliciano was.

By the time Feliciano got into the tent, he was shivering and trying to shake his wings dry, the motion being in vain as usual. Ivan, meanwhile, entered the tent a while later rather calmly, easily shaking his wings dry, but not seeming to care that his clothes were soaked. Feliciano paused and looked over at him.

"Ivan! You let yourself get soaked!" Feliciano exclaimed, starting to fuss. His medic side took over and he quickly set to unbuttoning Russia's now very wet jacket and slipping it off of him. "You shouldn't do that, you'll catch cold or even worse and then what would we do?" he said, using a nearby towel to try and dry him off. "Pants off. And boots, too."

Ivan rolled his eyes. "I am fine, Feliciano."

"You're just as stubborn as fratello," Feliciano huffed, before giving a little whine. "Come on, please? At least get into your nightclothes so you're dry…" he insisted, nudging the Russian towards his dresser to change.

"Ah? Your brother was always rather stubborn, from what I could tell," Ivan hummed, starting to change. Feliciano turned aside to give Ivan his privacy, and meanwhile set to undressing himself as well, not liking wet clothes any more than the next person. He left himself in his boxers, though, as it was as close to sleeping naked as he could get while sharing a tent with Ivan.

"Super stubborn!" Feliciano chirped, before laughing. "He's actually really nice though, even though he acts mean during meetings. Sometimes he'll even let me cuddle in bed with him!" he said, seeming delighted by the fact, as if it were a rare treat to share the bed with his older brother.

"I see. It must be nice to have siblings like that. Lively but still kind," Ivan hummed.

"But don't you have sisters, Ivan?"

"Ah, yes. But Natalia is not often… calm, enough, to be good company, and Katyusha is often not allowed to come see me," Ivan said, sounding a bit disappointed. He sat down on the bed, and Italy was instantly at work drying off his hair and wings with the towel. Ivan seemed half amused, but also half irritated. "Do you medics always fuss so much?" he asked.

Feliciano continued to dry Ivan up. "It's our job to fuss. Especially because we care about our patients~!"

"Ah, so I am a patient now, am I?"

"No, you're more like a charge~ After all, I'm in charge of keeping you safe and healthy, right?" Feliciano responded brightly. "Since head medics have to specifically look after their generals, I get to boss you around as long as it's for your health~" he said with a laugh.

Ivan raised an eyebrow, seeming amused at the mere idea that Feliciano thought he could boss him around. "Is that so? I seem to have missed that bit of information…"

"I guess you must've," Feliciano teased in reply, wings fluttering a bit playfully- and Ivan took notice of that action.

"Or perhaps… you are simply making it up," Ivan said in reply, smirking a bit playfully down at the Italian at his side drying him off. He watched in delight as Feliciano turned scarlet.

"And maybe you're just being stubborn," Feliciano managed to retort.

"And you are not?"

"It's my job to be! It's for your health," Feliciano insisted, before finishing up and tossing the towel aside to dry out.

Ivan hummed in reply, as he took a moment to simply look over Feliciano. The male was petite, especially in comparison to him. He could easily break every one of Feliciano's bones if he wanted to (not that he did), and yet, Feliciano seemed to be rather relaxed around him now, as opposed to the day before when he'd been anxious and more flighty. Feliciano's body was lithe, more meant for agility and flexibility and speed- and judging by how he'd seen the Italian run, he could definitely achieve speed on the ground- but he could ever achieve that speed in the air, with those wings of his?

Distracting himself from that train of thought, he looked over the Italian a bit more. Wide, large, honey-amber eyes, soft and shapely pink lips (or, well, they appeared soft, at least), reddish-auburn hair and lightly tanned skin… he was actually rather interesting to look at.

Interesting. Not pleasant, of course not, no… He couldn't be thinking that someone was attractive. He had to stay professional.

Feliciano's hands were small, delicate, with long fingers meant to be crafty and used for all sorts of skilled trades, cooking, art, music, _healing_, but they were definitely not suited for fighting. Physically, he seemed rather weak, and Ivan was glad that the Italian seemed to know at least _some _magic to defend himself with.

"Ah… I-Ivan…? Did I do something wrong…?" Feliciano asked after a few moments, feeling rather vulnerable under Ivan's intense stare. Ivan looked away, realizing that he'd been staring without intending to, and shook his head.

"No, nothing wrong. I simply realized how small you are," he commented, reaching over and lifting Feliciano easily by the waist as if to prove it, before setting him down. "And very light." Feliciano only squeaked and squirmed as he was lifted, before whining as he was set down.

"D-Don't do that! At least warn me first," he mumbled, as he was set down. "I'm not used to you lifting me.

"But the others always lift you and carry you about as if it is nothing. I simply wanted to see if you were really that light. And you are," Ivan responded, sounding almost childish. "And if the problem is simply not being used to it, I could easily lift you more often until you are," he said with a smirk, watching the Italian turn all red again. "You really do turn red so easily."

"Stop it, you," he whined playfully, batting at Ivan with a wing again. "No lifting."

"I do not think you could stop me, malyutka," Ivan said with smile, lifting Feliciano again for the sake of flustering him.

"I-Ivaaan… and what does that word mean? Malyutka?"

"It is Russian for 'little one'," Ivan said with a smirk. "I think it is fitting."

Feliciano turned pink, but decided another way to get revenge. "So mean... I'll have to punish you!" he said, before squirming out of Ivan's hold, and settling in his lap.

He cuddled, hugging Ivan once more, as tight as he could manage. For someone as small as he was, Feliciano could give terribly tight hugs- even Ivan felt it getting a bit hard to breathe.

Ivan was a bit stunned- he wasn't quite sure what was the punishment (maybe not being able to breathe well), but being hugged was something he still wasn't used to. But instead of feeling uncomfortable, he felt slightly warmed, and didn't protest as the Italian set to cuddling him.

Such affection was something he didn't know, something he rarely (if ever) experienced.

He calmed down and raised a hand to gently stroke Feliciano's hair, and the Italian looked up at him with wide eyes that shone with delight. Feliciano had even leaned more into the touch of his hand, something else that was foreign to him- people usually shrank _away_ from his touch, not moved more into it!

Ivan wondered if he could find a friend in Feliciano, then wondered if he already had.

"I do not understand how this is punishment," Ivan finally said, after a few moments of silence.

"Ve, I was hoping you would get flustered too, if I hugged you and cuddled with you…" Feliciano pouted after a moment. "It's not fair, how you get to fluster me all the time and I can't even make you blush a bit!" he whined, childishly.

Ivan found himself giving another laugh, in disbelief that someone could be so innocent and kind to believe that a hug could be "punishment."

"Forgive me, for not being as bashful as you," Ivan said with slight sarcasm in his voice, although his lips were curved into a small, but genuine, smile. "Although, it is rather fun to make you turn red, as I have said before," he said with a smirk. Feliciano turned red as if on cue, and Ivan chuckled softly, a low, deep sound.

Feliciano felt his heart- and his wings- involuntarily flutter at the sound of it.

Ivan tilted his head at him curiously. "Your wings fluttered."

"…n-no, they didn't."

"I just saw it."

"You were seeing things. Y-You should rest…!" Feliciano insisted, laughing a bit nervously, trying to nudge the other man to lie down in bed.

It was well known that someone's wings would flutter whenever they were either very happy, or having feelings of affection or admiration. It was also common for wings to flutter during flirtation- it was a dead giveaway.

"If you insist," Ivan hummed in response, although his tone and the look on his face indicated that he didn't buy it one bit. He settled down nonetheless and prepared to sleep, and Feliciano slipped into the opposite side of the bed, wrapping himself in his wings before carefully, pulling the covers up over himself and his new tentmate.

He was confused, however, when Ivan set a pillow between them.

"What's that for?"

"You, ah, tend to cling in your sleep. It makes it difficult for me to get out of bed in the morning," he explained, giving Feliciano a raised eyebrow and an amused look. Feliciano turned scarlet.

"D-Dispiace…! I didn't realize I was doing that, I-I just tend to move towards warm things in my sleep, and…" he trailed off.

"Not many would consider me 'warm', Feliciano," the Russian said after a moment.

"…you feel warm to me…" Feliciano murmured, seeming confused about the other man's statement. "Why wouldn't anyone think you were warm? You're big and you have lots of muscles like Lud, so you've got to be warm."

Ivan nearly rolled his eyes, but refrained.

"Do not worry yourself about it. Sleep," he instructed the Italian, strict as ever. Feliciano couldn't help but laugh a bit at that.

"Even ordering me to sleep…"

"If you are allowed to 'boss me around' for my own health, then I am allowed to do the same to you," Ivan reasoned. "Now sleep."

The Italian giggled a bit but closed his eyes obediently, and it wasn't long before he was peacefully asleep.

Ivan looked over at the small lantern that was still lighting the inside of the tent, and raised a hand to extinguish the flame within it. The fire went out after he murmured a word, letting his magic put out the flame so that he wouldn't have to move too much and risk waking the medic sleeping on the other side of the bed.

Looking over at Feliciano through the darkness, he could only barely make out his features. Even so, he could tell how the curves of his body seemed so agile, delicate- if he could only learn to fly, he could become incredible.

He was determined to see his malyutka fly.

* * *

**A/N: And that's the fifth chapter~! This one was a bit slower, but the plot should pick up more in the next chapter. **

**Thanks for reading!**

**Drop a review?**


	6. Fluffwing's Stigma

**A/N: Ah, I'm so sorry everything's been on hold for so long! This has been late because the end of the semester kicked in and I haven't been able to write with all the work and chaos going on. And now it's finals! But I hope everyone will forgive me and enjoy the new chapter.**

**Review replies:**

**Bluegeam: That's true, these two rarely get paired together, but they really could work well together! So I hope this fic might help to spread the love for the pair a little.**

**Meow: Aha, Feli can definitely be stubborn and prideful when it comes to certain things- his cooking, his family, his job as a healer, and his people. He doesn't always have to be a pushover, so this time around I decided to stick closer to his canon "slightly-troublesome" personality. I love giving Feli petnames, he's just one that's super easy to give them to. But si, in the future, we'll definitely get to see a lot of other characters as well, don't worry!**

**Here it is~!**

* * *

When Ivan awoke, he was vaguely aware of one thing.

Feliciano had curled up to him and started clinging in his sleep again.

He peeked one eye open, giving a low, deep sigh as he tried to help himself wake up- and he saw that his companion had completely bypassed the pillow he'd placed between them, instead ending up at his side again while the pillow remained ignored.

Well, that plan obviously didn't work.

Ivan wasn't used to physical contact, unless it was part of fighting- so to have the smaller Italian up so close to him, barely dressed- it made him uncomfortable. And very much so. He tried to very carefully pry Feliciano off of him, get some space between them, and gently move him along back to his proper side of the bed. But Feliciano's grip was surprisingly strong, and the Italian really didn't seem eager to lose his source of warmth and apparent comfort. Feliciano's head was nestled on Ivan's chest, just over his heart, and the sound of his heartbeat must have been what was making the smaller man sleep so soundly.

Ivan sighed again, and eventually decided to just let him sleep. He looked about, trying to get a good idea of what time it was. Even for him, who often woke very early, it still seemed much too early to be awake. It was always a pleasant feeling to wake up and realize you still had time to rest, so he decided to make the best of it and settle down, very hesitantly, as he didn't want to wake the man beside him.

Feliciano seemed to be sleeping peacefully, mostly still, save for some nuzzling and mumbling he would do unconsciously. The sheets had slid down during the night, exposing his upper body and making him shiver. Ivan tried to very slowly move the arm that Feliciano wasn't lying on, and was about to pull up the sheets, before he paused, looking over the expanse of skin on the Italian's back and visible side.

Feliciano, like other nations, had plenty of scars to show for his long life and battle-ridden history. While he had always been one to run from conflict if he could avoid it, sometimes he just _couldn't _avoid it, and that resulted in the painful wounds that became the scars on his body, the scars on his land and people.

Some had faded, some had stayed- Feliciano never had figured out what made a mark stay and what made a mark fade. Most Nations hadn't.

Ivan looked over the skin, trying to get a good look while Feliciano's guard was down and he was sleeping. His fingers lightly traced over it, running along some raised marks on his back from where flesh had been slashed open, down onto very slight, circular dips in the skin that had once been bullet wounds. His fingertips flitted over shining skin from burns, along jagged marks from the tear of shrapnel, and over the small scratches and discolorations from what used to be cracks on the skin.

A history was written on the body of every Nation, and now Ivan was familiarizing himself with Italy's, with Feliciano's. He had been troubled, in turmoil, seen blood and death and war just like all of them.

Somehow, all these scars made him seem beautiful.

_Beautiful,_ Ivan thought, humming softly as he turned that word over in his mind a few times.

Feliciano's eyes opened, and Ivan froze, immediately feeling uneasy. Had the other nation realized what he was doing?

The smaller male was blinking up at Russia blearily, still very much asleep, and he mumbled something in Italian before softly settling back down and returning to his peaceful silence.

Ivan released a breath he hadn't even known he'd been holding, and quickly tugged up the sheets to cover the shivering male.

He shouldn't have explored him like that, Ivan knew it. He knew it deep in his mind but somehow, he felt entitled to do as he pleased, and that included exploring the expanse of Feliciano's skin. Although, it was slightly hypocritical of him to do so- he knew that he himself would hate it if anyone tried to explore his skin, his history, his body like that, especially without permission.

Ah, well. Feliciano was a forgiving person anyway. Surely, it would not be a problem?

He shut his own eyes and tried to sleep, but not before attempting to push the Italian to his own side of the bed a few more times. (All of the attempts were unsuccessful.) Feliciano mumbled a few more soft words in his sleep again, but Ivan had long ago given up trying to understand them.

He shut his eyes and slept, missing how Feliciano's wings fluttered slightly at the brief touch of his falling hand.

* * *

It was raining once more when he awoke.

And Feliciano was still sleeping.

It must have been only six in the morning, so Feliciano still sleeping wasn't exactly that odd of an occurrence. However, Ivan still had work to do, and with Feliciano still clinging to him like that, he wouldn't be able to even get out of bed.

After a few more unsuccessful attempts to pry the Italian off of him, he gave a low growl, muttering, "This is absolutely ridiculous." He then forcefully removed Feliciano from him, pulling the Italian's arms off of him and pushing him to the other side of the bed.

Feliciano woke up at being jostled around so forcefully, eyes wide from confusion and shock.

"I-Ivan?"

"You were clinging in your sleep," Ivan said a bit gruffly as explanation, before standing and stretching.

Feliciano seemed a bit ashamed, and shrank back slightly, murmuring, "Sorry…" He was still half-hiding into a pillow, covered up in the sheets and using his wings for the warmth he'd now lost. Ivan sighed and shook his head.

"Do not apologize. It is something that cannot be helped, as it seems…" he said, briefly pinching the bridge of his nose before moving around to get dressed. "Will you be getting up as well?" he asked, noting that Feliciano hadn't made any move to get out of bed.

"It's too early," he mumbled in response, sleepily settling back down. "You should come back to bed."

Ivan was rather startled by that, giving the Italian in his bed an odd, steady look- although Feliciano seemed unfazed by it and waited expectantly, even outstretching a wing in an attempt to pull him back in. Ivan felt the large, soft wing wrap around his shoulders and try to nudge him back, but he batted the wing away gently with his own, more powerful one.

"Do not try to herd me around, Feliciano," Ivan said sternly. "Do not forget your place." Ivan was not amused with the Italian's attempt to control him, just try to order him about- although, in Feliciano's mind, all he'd done was try to get his friend some rest.

Nonetheless, Feliciano faltered and quickly tucked his wing back over himself, trembling for a moment and apologizing softly.

Ivan sighed and didn't respond, only getting dressed and saying, "I'm going to be getting to work. I suggest that you do the same. If I come back at noon and find you still asleep, I'll have to discipline you." The threat was only half-serious, but it was enough to make Feliciano pout nonetheless.

Suddenly, Feliciano's expression changed, and the smaller male shot up, silent, listening. His wings were twitching slightly in anxiousness, and that in turn made Ivan bristle warily, wondering what Feliciano was sensing.

"Feliciano?"

"They're coming. A big group, they're wounded," Feliciano said, shooting out of bed and getting dressed in clean scrubs from out of his bag, after struggling a bit to get his wings through the proper openings on the back of his shirt.

"You can tell that from listening?" Ivan raised an eyebrow, impressed with Feliciano's hearing range.

"The mornings are so still, so quiet… it's easy to hear when a large group is coming," Feliciano murmured, in a rush, stepping out only to dart back in when he realized it was raining. "D-Dio… of course it'd be raining. For them to come back in this weather… I wonder what happened?"

Ivan felt just as alarmed, now, to know that some of their men were already coming back from the front. "I'll have to prepare reinforcements," he thought to himself, quickly getting himself ready. "Would you like to borrow my shroud? I know your wings are much more susceptible to becoming waterlogged than mine."

"I-I couldn't, you should stay dry…"

"Take it," Ivan instructed, taking it upon himself to put the rain shroud over his new tentmate's wings, then tying it around his neck and pulling the hood up over his head. "There. Stay dry, get to work," Ivan instructed sternly. Feliciano was blushing slightly, from the other's kindness and willingness to give him his shroud, and nodded obediently, already getting his magic prepared for lots of healing. Ivan could feel the other's aura swell as he prepared for work, and felt slightly impressed.

So the Italian had a rather impressive reserve of magic, after all. He should've known.

(But it wasn't hard to underestimate someone whose reputation was that of being "useless.")

Feliciano darted out of the tent, now in a shroud, to get to work, and Ivan followed soon after, rousing the troops and getting the camp up and ready, preparing for battle. Only a portion of the large corps would be sent out to battle, but nonetheless, the entire corps had to help prepare and be at the ready in case of an emergency.

"England! Get a portion of your mages ready, we will need them. Where are the healers?" Ivan's voice boomed, easy to hear over the chaos of the camp as wounded soldiers landed, all being herded towards the hospital wing that Feliciano had returned to only moments earlier.

Several healers that returned with the group seemed to be terribly wounded, and many limped forward into view. "Take them to rest! Send a message to the hospital wing to prepare more healers to take their place. I need more supplies, packs sent to everyone- take more of the combatants and get them prepared immediately!"

"Sir, the reports coming in say that our forces are being pushed back, they've suddenly gotten a boom of soldiers in, and we weren't prepared."

"Then we will have to prepare just as many people to go fight back, before we lose more ground."

As Ivan continued to prepare his troops for the fight, he selected a proper colonel to lead the next group out, and continued to quickly gather the right amount of men. Many mages, even more soldiers, plenty of healers- all preparing to fly full speed into the battle.

"How many should we have?"

"Several thousand, sir."

"How many do we have ready?"

"About a few hundred more than that."

"Then send them out! There is no time to waste," he ordered, and in an impressive mass movement, the group took off, their colonel at the head of the group.

Ivan watched as the men flew off, and realized that soon enough he'd be the one leading a battle.

He felt bitterness churning inside him.

Once more he'd be witness to bloodshed…

The world never changed.

* * *

When Ivan went to the hospital wing around dinner time, he found the entire mass of tents full, every bed occupied with wounded and sick.

The battle had not been kind.

_It never is_, Ivan thought bitterly.

He hated battle. Hated war.

But he was damn good at it, and thus had been put into the position he now held, lieutenant general.

This time, though, he just wanted to check on his troops, see how they were doing. Many medics were rushing about the tents, tending to the many patients now resting there. For the most part, though, the chaos of the morning had died down, and now there was a tired, muted hum about the tent, not silence, but not loud and bustling.

He searched for his medic, and was told to go look in the head medic's office. Sure enough, once he pulled back the flap and stepped in, he found Feliciano, the young man asleep on his desk, drained of all energy.

"He saved so many of their lives today," a nurse had said softly. "He used up every drop of magic in him just making sure everyone would live."

"How many deaths?"

"None so far, sir. At least, none that have made it here to be treated."

"Good. You may return to your work."

Ivan had never been more grateful for the Italian's presence than now.

He had proved his worth.

He slowly stepped over to Feliciano's desk, and noticed that the Italian's scrubs were absolutely covered in blood- rather unsurprising considering the amount of wounded he must have treated today. Even his pristine white feathers were stained with it, and for a moment, Ivan felt worried that Feliciano had been hurt- only to realize it was the blood of others.

Feliciano's energy had been sapped, down to its last drops, and it looked like he was now resting, trying to regain some of his energy back, some of his magic back. There were even streaks of blood on his skin, especially over his cheeks and forehead, his neck. Ivan sighed, and stepped around to his side, gently shaking him awake.

"Feliciano. It is late," he said. "You should probably get up and clean up before going to dinner."

Feliciano's eyes fluttered open, although he still looked terribly tired and confused. "…get the morphine… " he mumbled, still half asleep, before he registered the presence of his general next to him. "Oh…! Ivan, you… are you… hurt?" he mumbled sleepily, a shaky hand taking a light green glow as he ran it over Ivan's torso.

Ivan took the hand in his, holding it steady, and patiently said, "No, Feliciano. I am fine. Do not use up the last bit of magic you have on me." Feliciano's hand lost its glow, but he made no move to pull his hand out of Ivan's. Ivan instead used it to tug him to his feet. "Come now. Stand. You should wash up. A shower will do you good. Do you have clean clothes to change into afterwards?"

Feliciano gave a slow nod, and pointed over to another few sets of scrubs he had lying on a table. Ivan took a pair, then used his wing to nudge Feliciano along, taking the long trek over to the showers on the other side of the camp. Luckily, the rain had stopped earlier, although it left the ground unpleasantly muddy. "You have not eaten, have you? Neither breakfast nor lunch, I assume."

Feliciano shook his head tiredly, seeming very out of it.

"You have overworked yourself."

No real response came to him from that, but Feliciano gave a tired sigh. Ivan kept his wing at his back, leading Feliciano along and ignoring the looks he got from many of the troops. (Whether the troops were staring at the blood-soaked medic, or the fact that Ivan was leading him along, was questionable.) Soon enough, they'd arrived at their private showers, and Ivan nudged Feliciano in. "Go on. Clean up. I will stand guard here," he hummed, settling by the towel rack.

Feliciano gave him a grateful look, before starting to undress, setting aside his bloodied clothes on a rack nearby. Ivan wasn't ashamed to give him a quick look over, just at his back, trying to see how strong the muscles in his back for his wings were. They seemed strong, healthy, despite their disuse- and that was good news for Ivan, who would be the one continuing to train him to fly.

The younger male stepped into the shower and proceeded to wash himself off, and Ivan watched as bloodied water flowed into the drain. He sighed- apparently blood had gotten all over Feliciano after today's chaos. But at least now he was cleaning up, and hopefully the shower would help him to wake up and relax a little more.

Not too long afterwards, he finally stepped out of the shower, using a towel to dry his main body off and wrapping it around his waist before he struggled to dry his wings the best he could. Ivan chuckled softly at his struggle.

"Do you always have this much trouble drying your wings?"

Feliciano pouted at him in response, turning pink. "N-No! I can just use a drying spell when I'm at home…"

"Ah, so you do, at least here. Here," Ivan hummed, before using a drying spell on Feliciano's wings, removing all the water left clinging to the feathers, and relieving the fluffy appendages of their weight. "Better?"

"Si, grazie," Feliciano answered with a tired smile, before getting redressed. (He made Ivan turn around before redressing, though, making Ivan question at what point Feliciano's sense of modestly kicked in.)

"Despite conservation of energy, I do not think it would be a waste to dry your wings," Ivan hummed. "You should at the very least do that for yourself, when you have the energy. If your wings are too wet to function, it will be difficult to fly in emergencies… especially with how your flight patterns are still rather chaotic." Feliciano turned red at the comment, but didn't respond.

Most people's feathers were covered with a thin sheen of natural oil that protected them from the water- but Feliciano, being a fluffwing, lacked that oil on many of his feathers, making it difficult for him to deal with water, or fly in the rain. (Rather ironic, considering that he personified Venezia, a region heavily influenced by the sea.)

When Feliciano finished dressing, he gave a slight sigh, staring at himself in a mirror for a few moments. Ivan raised a brow, and asked, "What are you doing?" Feliciano only shook his head and turned away. "I expect an answer, Feliciano," Ivan said next, sternly, curiosity getting the best of him and making him use his authority as a way to get his answer.

"D-Dispiace," Feliciano squeaked. "I-I was just… looking at myself a bit. Isn't that what you're supposed to do in front of mirrors?" he asked, confused as to why Ivan had questioned him about it.

"You seemed… upset."

"I've lost weight."

"Ah… is that so? I suppose it just means you've been working hard," Ivan hummed softly. "It's no reason to worry. You still seem to be at a healthy weight… do not forget to eat, though," he said next. "Come. We should get dinner before it becomes too late for a meal."

Feliciano nodded and started to walk along, without being nudged this time, although he still seemed considerably tired out. He didn't mind being led around by the larger man- right now, he felt very much in need of a good meal and some more sleep, so the less thinking he did, the more he could relax.

Upon arriving at the dining hall, the two got their meals before joining the other Nations at their usual table. Feliciano practically collapsed into his seat before eating, a bit lethargically. Heracles looked over at his friend, and lifted a hand to gently pat him on the head, then stroking his hair.

"You've worked hard today," the Grecian hummed, sounding a bit proud. Feliciano perked up considerably at the acknowledgement, wings fluttering in delight and making Feliks laugh.

"Feli, your wings are totally giving you away right now," Feliks said, pointing to the quivering feathers. Feliciano turned scarlet in embarrassment, and playfully tossed a small piece of asparagus at his friend. "Hey! Don't throw food at me just because your wings are too dynamic."

Feliciano whined. "J-Just because they do that doesn't mean anything! I'm just happy," he huffed, blushing a bit before briefly leaning on Heracles affectionately, wings continuing to flutter with the extra few pats he received. Soon enough, though, he'd returned to eating, seeming a bit more awake now that he'd started to eat as well as speak with his friends.

Ivan observed rather calmly as he ate his own meal, being rather quiet in favor of watching the others. He saw how relaxed Feliciano could get around his friends, so trusting and open, affectionate.

He felt something, like a bit of burning in his chest, and huffed, before finishing his meal. He didn't like this feeling. He shouldn't be having this feeling at all, and especially not over the Italian beside him.

Jealousy.

He wanted to have the Italian's trust like that, too. To have his friendship, to have someone who would be kind to him without ulterior motives, and not fear him.

Feliciano seemed like one of the few people willing to trust him, even a little.

After all, to sleep in the same bed, Feliciano must trust him at least slightly, right?

But being reminded of how the Italian was so much closer to so many other people… it made him get a bit of a sour feeling in his stomach.

Ivan tried to mentally chastise himself, remind himself that he didn't need companionship, that he shouldn't be worrying or wasting emotion on such a topic- but then Feliciano turned and smiled at him.

"Ivan, you think so too, right?" Feliciano asked, eyes bright.

Ivan suddenly realized that he'd been so absorbed in his own thoughts that he had no idea what they were conversing about. Not wanting to lose face, he simply nodded, watching how Feliciano's expression perked up even more.

"See, Ivan agrees with me!"

"Feliciano, I think… you may be getting a bit… ahead of yourself," Heracles said, choosing his words carefully. Feliciano pouted, deflating visibly.

"But I-I'm sure I could…! With more training, Ivan said I could… I could be a really strong flier," Feliciano huffed.

"I don't think it means you'd be ready to go into the new battle, not at all. It would be much safer to train more, and _then_ go out with a group later on," Arthur commented, trying to rid Feliciano of his bad idea.

Ivan realized that they were discussing Feliciano's ability to fight and work during a battle, and he instantly tensed. "Yes, England is right," he said, looking at Feliciano sternly. "You may have been in battle before, but with how your wings are, I doubt you were of much… stable use," he decided to say, noting how Feliciano's excitement and joy seemed to have faded from his visage.

"I… I was perfectly useful before," Feliciano murmured softly, trying to defend himself, before quietly returning to his meal, finishing it then leaving to go clean up his tray.

"Hey! Don't you dare talk to Feli like that! I swear, when this war is over, I'm making your capital Warsaw," Feliks threatened, pointing at Russia and looking unusually serious. He didn't like it at all when his friends were messed with, and the Pole was fiercely loyal, much like Feliciano was. He might have been overreacting, but he was perfectly aware of how Feliciano's self-esteem was easily crushed by reminders of his "uselessness."

Feliciano didn't return to the table, prompting Russia to get up, looking over.

Feliciano seemed to be being ganged up on, backed up out of the dining hall, and his body language radiated defensiveness, fear, the want to flee.

Out of the dining hall now, the fluffwing felt himself being backed up, further into the darkness of the forest, as these men continued to jeer at him, taunt him. He was bristling, perfectly aware that this group was the one who gave him the most grief, who constantly tormented him about his wings.

"I'm surprised you're still here," the leader said, a rather fiery young man named Kyle, an American with dark brown hair and matching eyes, his build rather lean but still covered in toned muscle. His wings were a bright red, which matched his given element of fire.

The rest of the group was a mix- one young woman named Tina, also American, one young German man named Gunther, one young English man named Bradley, and his friend Brian, also English.

Feliciano faltered, tucking his wings as close to himself as he could manage. "I'm the head medic. I have no reason to leave, and I'm needed here," he replied, determined to try and prove his worth to them.

"I'm sure they could always bring in another medic stronger than you. It's only been a day and you're already drained of energy, we can feel that clear as day," Brian laughed. He was a sandy-haired, lanky boy, with bright blue eyes. His wings were a pale green, contrasting with the bright blue of his eyes, a color that indicated his lean towards nature magic.

"I treated four thousand men today," Feliciano said in his defense. "Four. _Thousand._ Of course my energy is going to be drained!" In Feliciano's corps of thirty-thousand, about a third of them were away battling on the Iberian front. To have to treat so many wounded coming back, meant that things weren't going well, and he'd have to work harder.

Currently, six thousand men were fighting, five thousand reinforcements were on their way to the battlegrounds, and the four thousand wounded were still recovering in the hospital wing. That left the camp with fifteen thousand able-bodied men, making them rather vulnerable at the moment.

He _needed_ to make sure all the wounded got back on their feet as soon as possible.

As a nation, he'd had centuries, no, millennia, to hone his energy, and he had more magic in him that the most powerful humans could ever accumulate in their lives. The problem was, he preferred not to fight, only to heal, and that left him at a disadvantage- he didn't know many offensive magicks, and it left him terribly vulnerable.

(Sometimes he wished he'd listened to his big brother and studied them more.)

"Tch, yeah right. That's the biggest piece of bull we've heard from you yet," Tina huffed, crossing her slender arms. She had jet black hair and eyes, and jet-streamed wings to match, making her one of the fastest fliers in her division, her specialty being in dark magic and cloaking. "Even the best medics only have enough magic to treat a few hundred, not a few _thousand_," she snapped.

Feliciano bit his lip.

These humans didn't know his identity as a two-thousand year old Nation- it wasn't surprising that they didn't believe him.

"Why don't you just admit you'd be more useful crashing around at home? Maybe you could get something done about those wings, while you're at it. You're a liability," Brian added, making Kyle snicker.

"A disaster waiting to happen," Kyle agreed. "We'll even help you get home, after all, you can get discharged for being too injured to serve… we'll take care of those wings, for you," he hummed, letting a flame engulf his hand as a threat.

Feliciano's eyes widened- they were going to burn him. Scorch the feathers off his skin and leave the wings so damaged they wouldn't move-

"Is there a problem, here?" came a low, growling voice, and the group quickly whirled around to face it, stiffening and straightening up.

"General Braginski!" Gunther recognized him in shock, backing off from Feliciano in a moment. The very muscular, bulky male was still smaller than Ivan, and he knew how to pick his battles, backing down. Gunther was a combat fighter, mostly physical, although the bit of magic he did use was often to help him land harder blows, or stun his enemies. His wings were a dusky brown, matching his hair color, and his eyes were hazel eyes were sharp, calculating.

Bradley, who had been rather quiet so far, stepped forward with a bit of a smile. "Ah, General! Don't worry about my teammates, they were having a bit of fun," he assured, charisma on at full force as he nudged his friends away from Feliciano. "We were just leaving."

Ivan didn't trust him for a moment, but stepped aside. "Move along," he instructed gruffly, and Feliciano quickly moved to hide behind him, still shaken up from fear. Ivan's wing outstretched slightly, just enough to shield Feliciano protectively.

Just as the group started to shuffle past, Ivan warned in a low tone, "Harrassing a higher up comes with quite a heavy punishment. Do not forget that the head medic is crucial to our survival. If you threaten it… I will not hesitate to eliminate… _problematic people_."

The words sent shivers down Bradley's spine, making him laugh nervously. "A-Aha, don't worry, sir… Nothing like that will happen, I'm sure of it." He ushered his friends along, pushing them with his wings. The group soon hurried along, out of sight, and Ivan let his gruff exterior fall, before turning to Feliciano, who was now tucking himself into his side.

Seeking safety.

He never thought that one day someone would seek safety _in _him, instead of _from_ him.

"Did they hurt you?" Ivan asked sternly, still seeming to be bristling slightly. Feliciano could easily detect the protective notes in his voice, and his wings fluttered slightly as he shook his head.

"N-No, sir. I'm alright," he assured, before watching Ivan relax.

"Good," Ivan said, before turning and walking in the direction of their tent. "Now come. You need your rest. You have so little energy that you could not defend yourself if it was necessary," he said sternly, very determined to get the exhausted Italian to rest. Feliciano followed along obediently, only to be startled by another question. "That group- are they the ones who constantly harass you?"

Feliciano was silent for a moment, before nodding.

Ivan's face was overcome by something dark for a moment, before his expression returned to neutral.

The general "nudged" his medic into the tent with a rather forceful push from his wing, making the Italian squeak and whine as he stumbled in. Ivan smirked slightly, a bit of playfulness briefly shining in his eyes, before he sealed the tent flap closed behind him, in case of more rain.

To Ivan's surprise, though, he noticed that a few of Feliciano's feathers went flying when his wings flapped about to help him regain his balance. He chuckled and plucked a soft, downy feather from the air, as it floated down before him.

"Your feathers have the softest down I have ever seen," Ivan commented, looking over the plumes, before letting the feather fall to the ground. Feliciano turned scarlet at the compliment, and smiled, eyes bright with joy.

Ivan decided he rather liked it when Feliciano smiled.

"Grazie," Feliciano responded softly, before undressing down to his boxers and slipping into bed, leaving room for Ivan and waiting patiently. He was already so tired, that he looked very much ready to pass out the moment he settled- but he was forcing himself to stay awake for Ivan.

"Feliciano, sleep. I still have some paperwork to look over," Ivan ordered, as he took his seat at his desk, and got to work. He glanced back after a few moments, seeing that Feliciano was still awake, and he sighed. "Feliciano."

"But I… want to wait… for you…" Feliciano mumbled sleepily, struggling to stay awake. Ivan stood up again and walked over to him, gently pressing a hand over the Italian's forehead.

"You do not need to. Now sleep," Ivan murmured, letting his hand glow a light blue as he cast a sleeping spell.

Feliciano was out in an instant, sleeping peacefully on the bed, wing wrapped around himself for some extra warmth.

Ivan shook his head, before getting back to work.

Feliciano would likely be upset with him in the morning, for having forced him to sleep like that- but the medic needed his rest. It might have been the head medic's job to look after the general, but it was also the general's job to look after the head medic, and Ivan would do his best to ensure that his medic was in the best shape he could be, so that the corps would be better off as a whole.

Even if some ignorant humans thought otherwise, even if _Feliciano_ thought otherwise…

He was important. Vital. Necessary.

So Ivan would protect him.

"Spokoinoi nochi, malyutka."

_Goodnight, small one._

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**A/N: Again, sorry for how long this took. My last final is on Thursday, so after that, I have a six-week vacation, during which I'll be doing a lot of writing. See you next update!**

**Drop a review?**


	7. Trust

**A/N: Now that the Christmas rush is over, I finally have the chance to write again.**

**Review replies:**

**Meow: I'm so glad you think it's paced well! I'm trying hard not to rush it too much, and I'm glad I can keep a nice balance of things in the story. And I totally agree, a jealous Russia is somehow strangely adorable.**

**111fun: I'm glad you're enjoying it! Thanks for your review.**

**Guest: Yes, I agree! Ivan really isn't as bad as he seems. He's a bear, but not quite the vicious one people think. More of a protective one. (Not quite a teddy bear.)**

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Feliciano woke up slowly, feeling a bit confused. His bed was empty, and he didn't have his usual source of warmth beside him this morning. Pouting a bit, he tried to remember what happened the night before- and remembered that Ivan had forced him to sleep with a sleeping spell. He sulked about it, definitely not happy about it.

Casting a sleeping spell on someone else was usually seen as rather rude, as it basically said "I don't want to deal with you right now." Sometimes the spells were used in battle, but they were rather ineffective, seeing as the noise and chaos of battle often caused the person to wake back up anyway. (The common sleeping spell was weak and usually used casually on children or friends and family.)

The small Italian was about to try and protest the spell he'd been put under, but then he realized that Ivan was slumped over in his chair, perfectly still, as if he'd fallen asleep there. He couldn't help but give a small, worried call- it surely couldn't be comfortable to have slept there.

"Ivan…?" he called, watching as Ivan startled awake, looking around slowly as he tried to stretch his wings. "You… did you _sleep_ in that chair?"

"Ah… it seems I must have dozed off."

Feliciano shot up out of bed, and huffed, tugging Ivan over back to the mattress. "Ivan! First you put a sleeping spell on me, and then you don't even come to bed to rest? Your muscles will be all twisted and knotted and tense from sleeping like that- dio!" he sounded exasperated, and he folded his arms over his chest impatiently. "Shirt off, down on your stomach on the bed."

Ivan was still half-asleep, but even he raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Just do it," Feliciano huffed, ordering him about sternly. He took his job as a medic seriously. "You'll be useless if you can't even shift your wings, and your muscles will cause you pain unless I straighten them out. Now go on," he urged. But his little pout made his expression seem terribly childish, so any air of authority he may have had vanished into air.

Ivan only shook his head in amusement, but removed his shirt as asked and lied down on the bed on his stomach. He knew the Italian only had good intentions, so he would expose himself like this, just this once.

After he got settled, he turned his head and watched as Feliciano climbed onto the bed, kneeling over his hips, and then started to slowly and carefully massage every inch of his back with lightly-glowing fingers. He even started to massage at his wings as well, to make sure those muscles were alright- and to Feliciano's surprise, Ivan allowed the touch.

(Ivan let almost no one touch his wings- but when a massage felt this nice, he couldn't resist.)

Feliciano worked diligently, letting his fingers run over toned muscles to relax them and remove the knots and tension, healing energy running through his fingertips to help the process along. Ivan was giving a few hums of approval, making Feliciano perk up in delight, and when he was finally done, he absently set to preening Ivan's wings.

"What are you doing?" Ivan asked, turning his head to look at Feliciano sternly. Feliciano's froze, fingers still in his General's feathers.

"I, um. Your feathers were misaligned, so I wanted to fix them up…" Feliciano murmured. "From you sleeping in that chair and all."

Ivan eyed him warily, but then relaxed and allowed him to continue, making Feliciano give a sigh of relief before continuing to preen his wings. Feliciano hummed a soft song as he worked, fingers combing and gently putting feathers into their proper place, fixing up any matting or tangles of the longer feathers, as well as fluffing up down wherever it was necessary. Ivan's wings were bulky, Feliciano noted, from having a lot of down mixed in with strong, large flight feathers.

"You have a lot of down. I never noticed before," Feliciano hummed.

"When you live in a place as cold as I do, your wings adapt to retain heat," Ivan replied, sounding almost bored, as if he'd explained this fact many times before to others. Feliciano hummed and examined his own wings.

"Mine are all fluffy too. But it gets hard to handle in the summer," he sighed. "I shed most of it, but it still feels hot."

Ivan gave a low chuckle in amusement. "I can only imagine what your home must look like when you molt." Feliciano turned a bright red, and didn't respond to that. His house became an absolute mess of feathers when that happened, and Lovino often found himself laughing at how ridiculous Feliciano looked surrounded in a sea of his own, fluffy down. "I see your energy has returned," the general noted next, while Feliciano continued to preen at his fingers.

"Some of it," the Italian responded, knowing that the night's rest had only replenished part of his magic. "But it's enough to function through the day. You didn't have to put a sleeping spell on me, though," he whined, feeling a bit betrayed. "I let you get that close to me and then you go and put me to sleep…"

Ivan was slightly surprised to hear betrayal in Feliciano's voice, as to feel betrayed meant that first, trust had been placed in him. The more he thought about it, the more confused he felt- he was very unused to having people's trust, at least on a personal level. On a professional level, as a lieutenant general, he had the trust of his men- if he didn't, he wouldn't be very good at leading them. But on a personal level, no one wanted to get to know Ivan Braginski, let alone trust him with such proximity.

And then there was Feliciano- a small figure, unintimidating, seen useless by many, and yet, on a personal level he was trusted so greatly by everyone he met. Was it the bright eyes, the casual and friendly form of speech? Or something else that just made the Italian so trustworthy?

To know that this Italian of all people, so well liked (by those who looked past his wings, anyway), actually trusted him felt a bit strange. He knew Feliciano was trusting, almost to a fault, but even so, it was strange.

Ivan mused further, realizing that he trusted Feliciano as well- trusted him to touch him, to see him nearly naked, to touch his wings and heal him and even sleep together in the same bed. It was… relaxing, though, to have a pair of trusted hands massaging him, preening his wings and healing him as needed.

He liked Feliciano's hands.

"There, I think it's all good now," Feliciano chirped, before climbing off of Ivan's hips and allowing the other man to sit up. "Did you at least get good sleep…? I can't imagine it, sleeping in such a stiff chair…" he murmured, biting his lip a little. Ivan turned his head and cracked his neck audibly, making Feliciano shudder at the unpleasant sound. "D-Don't do that! Dio, hold still, now I need to heal that. Don't you know that every time you do that, you wear away cartilage?" he whined, back in fussy medic mode.

He reached up to touch the back of Ivan's neck, gently pulling away the scarf (that Ivan seemingly only took off to shower) so he could massage out the neck muscles and check on the bones.

Ivan tensed and suddenly turned about, grabbing Feliciano's wrist tightly and nearly crushing it. Feliciano's eyes widened and he gave a pained cry, trying to pull his wrist out of his grasp. "I-Ivan? Ivan, l-let go, that hurts, what are you doing-?"

"Do not. Touch. My neck," Ivan growled lowly, eyes darkened with something dangerous, a silent threat. "Nor the scarf."

Feliciano was whimpering now, pained, feeling bruises bloom on his wrist. "D-Dispiace, I'm sorry, p-please let go, I didn't know-!" he stammered, confused and scared at this sudden change in Ivan's demeanor.

Ivan let go, and Feliciano scrambled to the opposite corner of the bed, cradling his wounded wrist and giving soft, shuddering, pained breaths. The dark look left Ivan's visage, and as he realized that he'd just injured his head medic, he felt something twist inside him.

Guilt?

No, it couldn't be.

"Feliciano-"

"I-I'm sorry!" Feliciano said the words before Ivan could say another, and he shakily proceeded to work at healing his own wrist. He was right-handed, though, so to use his left hand to heal was a bit more difficult. Nonetheless, the bruises slowly faded from his skin, muscles repairing themselves and bones realigning in their proper places with a few small cracks.

Ivan felt that odd twist in this chest again.

He didn't like it, and feeling irritated, he readjusted his scarf and stood, quickly getting dressed and heading out of the tent to get some air and calm down, leaving Feliciano sitting and trembling anxiously on the bed, wings wrapped around himself for some form of comfort.

Feliciano really hadn't meant to upset him- but in retrospect, he should've known better. That scarf was precious to Ivan, wasn't it? And he almost never went without his neck covered, except for when he was showering.

He thought back to that time- he only got a glimpse of it, since he'd gotten flustered and turned away, but… There were scars all over Ivan's neck, terrible looking scars from seemingly horrendous and painful wounds. He must not like having those uncovered, Feliciano figured.

_I should've known better,_ Feliciano thought to himself, burying his face into one of his soft wings, using the feathers to wipe away his fearful and anxious tears. His wings were trembling just as much as the rest of him, but they offered comfort nonetheless. He was used to seeking comfort in his own wings when he was on his own. It wasn't an unusual thing- many people would use their own wings as a temporary sanctuary and source of comfort in troubled times.

Ivan reentered the tent a few moments later, seeming calmer, and he returned to the bed, sitting at the edge of it and feeling another twist when he saw how wary Feliciano seemed of him now. Someone who had been so trusting and open with him before- now he'd scared them off, too. He always did, and he hated it.

Not sure what to do, Ivan started to speak softly. "I… do not like it, when people see my neck. Or try to touch my scarf. I would appreciate it… if you asked, before trying to do so," Ivan said slowly, choosing his words carefully. He wanted to hopefully calm Feliciano down, earn his trust back. His brief lapses of composure often caused fear or harm to come to others, and he had excellent control over it most of the time, except for when sensitive areas or topics were breached. His neck was one of those things.

"I… did not intend to hurt you. Are you alright?" Ivan asked next. It wasn't a direct apology, but it was the closest thing he could give to Feliciano right now.

Feliciano listened to Ivan carefully. It almost sounded as if Ivan would _let_ him touch his neck, if he asked first. It even sounded as if Ivan was feeling guilty about having hurt him. "I-It's alright," he stammered. "My wrist, I mean. I could heal it," he said, moving his hand and wrist about as proof.

"Good. I would expect nothing less of a high-class medic," Ivan hummed, a bit gruffly- but there was relief in his eyes, and Feliciano felt his wings flutter again slightly.

"A-Ah… Ivan, then, does this mean… if I asked right now, to look at your neck, would you let me?" Feliciano ventured hesitantly. He was both curious and worried, still wanting to massage the muscles in Ivan's neck to reduce some of the tension causing the bones to crack and snap.

Ivan was silent for a moment, regarding him with a steady, unreadable look that only made Feliciano more nervous. But after a moment, Ivan sighed and slowly unwound the scarf from around his neck, feeling incredibly tense about the action.

Feliciano looked over the skin more closely now that he had the chance, and he felt his heart break for the man before him. The wounds that caused all these scars- they must have been atrocious, cruel, purposefully inflicted on the other nation. He lifted glowing hands to Ivan's neck, slowly, gently touching the skin at first. Ivan tensed and flinched at the touch at first, and as much as Feliciano tried to massage the muscles there, they wouldn't relax.

"Ivan… I won't hurt you," he murmured softly. "These muscles here, they're really tense… they'll feel better if you let me relax them. Will you?"

A slightly stiff nod was his response, and Feliciano let healing energy flow from his fingertips into the expanse of skin he was massaging. He could feel the roughness and ridges of many scars under his fingers as he worked, and bit his lip. But he kept his focus, and soon, the muscles under his care started to relax, losing all the tension they'd been holding for seemingly far too long. He even used his thumbs to dig right into where the top of the spine met the base of the skull, and pressed in, massaging- and suddenly, Ivan gave a long sigh of contentment, then relaxed, seemingly melting to putty before him. Ivan's large wings even quivered slightly, a sign of delight.

Feliciano resisted the urge to burst into giggles, absolutely startled and delighted all at once by that reaction. "Ah… you really were all tensed up. It must feel nicer now, huh?" Feliciano said with a little smile, before finally removing his hands from his general's neck. "Better?"

Ivan's eyes had shut in bliss at the sensation of all the tension being gone from his neck, especially with the massages to the base of his skull. He slowly opened them, seeming a bit out of it, before sitting up straight and alert once more. "Ah…. Da. It feels much lighter, somehow."

He decided that maybe, from time to time, he might let Feliciano touch his neck again.

But only for those massages.

Feliciano's smile and eyes were bright. "I'm glad!" was his simple response, and he then stretched and stood up, getting a clean pair of scrubs out from his bag and getting dressed. "We should get breakfast now," he hummed, watching as Ivan wrapped the scarf back around his neck.

Ivan was confused once more, to see how quickly Feliciano had started to trust him again.

Trusting to a fault, just like he'd thought.

Feliciano would be putting himself in constant danger like that, if he kept trusting just about anyone- even after a person hurt him. Ivan bristled a bit, knowing he'd have to be very protective of the medic from now on.

_If he could trust even me… even after I had harmed him, then he is a fool_, Ivan thought somewhat bitterly to himself, before snapping out of it to reply to the Italian. "Da. You must eat to recover your energy more," Ivan said sternly, using a wing to nudge Feliciano out of the tent. "Especially after you wore yourself out entirely yesterday. Four thousand men to heal is not something to sneeze at," Ivan hummed, praising the medic as they walked along to get breakfast.

Feliciano turned pink and felt his wings flutter in pride, glad that at least Ivan recognized his efforts. "G-Grazie…"

Ivan continued, "I think only Yao bests you at healing, now." He was fond of the other nation, even though they were currently fighting against each other on opposite sides of the war. "But he is twice as old as you are, so that is to be expected. I think his record is ten thousand in a day."

"A-Ah… I didn't know it was a competition," Feliciano said with a playful pout. "But he's more useful than me, so I couldn't ever hope to beat him in a competition. His magic reserves are much greater than mine, and he's even incredible in combat. I'm not very good at spell casting or fighting, just healing…" he sighed, playfulness fading as he gave in to self-deprecation. "I can't even fly properly, and he's one of the fastest around."

Ivan gave him a slight nudge with his wing. "I think with enough training, you could be a formidable flier as well. I could try to teach you basic combat spells as well, if you would like. The more prepared you are, the better. Speaking of which, I think we should have another session today. If we do not remain diligent with this, then you will not be able to make any progress at all."

Feliciano flushed pink and nodded. "S-Si… that's true."

They both arrived in the mess hall and got their meals, Feliciano feeling relaxed enough to not tuck his wings in so tightly as he usually did. They got some odd looks, Feliciano even getting a few sneers and glares, but Feliciano tried his hardest to ignore them, sticking close to his superior.

As they sat down with the other nations (Heracles was absent, presumably delivering another message), Feliciano began to eat contentedly, Ivan doing the same beside him and seeming relaxed. Eduard looked over curiously, before leaning over and whispering to Feliciano, "What did you do to him? He seems… significantly less tense."

Feliciano giggled. "I massaged his back and wings and neck."

Eduard's eyes widened in surprise. "He let you touch his neck?"

Feliciano turned a bit red, biting his lip as he remembered how Ivan had injured his wrist first. "Not without a bit of, er, difficulty. But eventually, si." Eduard hummed, apparently impressed, before returning his attention to his own meal. Feliciano's attention was once again caught by how Arthur was still studying at his spell book, and his curiosity was piqued.

"Artie, you've been staring at that book for days now. What are you looking for?" Feliciano asked curiously.

Arthur turned a bit red and huffed, "Don't call me that. And to answer your question, there's a reputed spell capable of completely taking out half a battlefield if used correctly, but all the schematics of it are difficult. I've been studying it in hopes of using it, but it's going to be risky and a long shot."

"What's it do?" Feliks asked, trying to peek over and make sense of the runes in the book, only to give up a few moments later when he realized he couldn't understand a thing on the page.

"It's a selective lightning strike spell. Contrary to popular belief, lightning actually rises up from the earth, as opposed to down from the sky. We'd be making use of this principle and creating a massive magic circle on the earth below the battlesite, and then set it off to attack our enemies," Arthur explained.

"Well, that doesn't sound too hard. So like, what's the complicated part?" Feliks asked next.

Arthur sighed. "It… involves tagging every single one of our soldiers. It would be extremely difficult to do," he explained. "The attack will strike everyone on the battlefield with lightning, and that includes our own men, unless they're 'tagged' with a magic seal that keeps the lightning from finding them. To try tagging several thousand men during the chaos of battle… it would be impossible. The only way to do this spell is if it was decided before sending troops into battle, and it's too late for that."

Ivan looked over with a raised eyebrow. "What good will it do to study it now, then? It had better not be a waste of time."

"No, sir. I intended to use it for the next battle on a new front- that is, if we can ever push back the enemy forces from ours," the head mage explained, before sighing. "But I see your point, I should probably find something to help us _now_." Ivan nodded, and Arthur instead started to flip to a different section of his book.

Breakfast was otherwise uneventful, but Feliciano felt a bit anxious at the thought of such a devastating spell. A spell to bring down lightning on all enemies, something that would undoubtedly kill them in an instant- it seemed horrifying. He knew the battlefield was a place of blood and death, and he'd seen it plenty of times before and probably would see it many times again- but still, it made him feel a bit sick.

So much senseless violence… he wished wars could be won with words instead of blood.

But he stretched his wings, putting away his tray before suddenly being pulled aside by Ivan.

"Yes, sir?" Feliciano said out of habit, looking up at Ivan.

"You won't be working today. You need to train your wings more," Ivan instructed.

"B-But, all those soldiers that came in yesterday-"

"Will be perfectly attended to by your staff. Now come," he ordered, in a calm tone. He began to lead the way back to their private little training ground, and Feliciano felt himself getting more anxious.

As much as the flight training seemed to help him improve, Ivan's training sessions were rather brutal and unrelenting, and Feliciano had left it last time feeling absolutely exhausted and very sore.

Upon arriving in the grassy clearing, Ivan suddenly stood before Feliciano and ordered, "Extend your wings." Feliciano was a bit confused by the order, but did as he was told, spreading his admittedly large white wings as far as he could.

Ivan started to look them over, walking around him and scrutinizing every inch of his feathers. He did have some semiplume and even a few flight feathers hidden in his wings, most of the white mass consisted entirely of soft, fluffy down. It wasn't surprising that Feliciano could barely fly, considering his lack his flight feathers to help him steer.

But then, he noticed something different, something off about several patches of feathers on the Italian's wings. "What are these…?" he hummed, reaching out and touching one of the areas in question, where the tips of the wings looked a bit broken, black, singed. It looked as if someone had been meticulous about trying to make them look as indiscreet as possible, but upon closer inspection, it became very obvious that several patches of feathers had been burnt at some point in the recent past.

Ivan's eyes narrowed, and his voice turned to a low growl.

"Feliciano… your wings have been burnt. Recently. In multiple places…" he trailed off, waiting for Feliciano to respond.

"I-I, it was just a mishap with a candle, that's all," Feliciano lied.

"Now… would this candle happen to be anything like that 'lake' you fell into a while ago?" Ivan asked next. His voice lowered again, "As in, not actually a candle?"

Feliciano tensed up, shaking, feeling a few tears well up in his eyes from distress. "…s-si…" he whispered.

Ivan realized that he was scaring the smaller man, and sighed, trying to relax himself a bit. He gently stroked a wing, watching it slowly relax and droop to the grass below, and then did the same to the other, until Feliciano seemed calm. The fact that Feliciano even let him stroke his wings like that surprised him, but he was glad for it now. He stepped before the Italian, and then, realizing that looking down on him was probably making Feliciano more anxious, he slowly knelt down on one knee and looked up.

Feliciano felt startled, shocked at the sight of Ivan doing such a thing, but he looked down and met his commander's gaze.

"Feliciano, have people been harming you, when you are alone?"

Feliciano was still for a moment, and then nodded.

"That night I found you on your own, hiding away in the woods… I am assuming that certain people were… disturbing your things, your tent, before then. And that caused you to hide there, correct?"

Another shaky nod. A fear tears seemed ready to fall from his watering eyes, and Ivan sighed, not sure how far to push.

"People have also been… harassing you, using spells on you to make your life more difficult?"

Another nod, and this time, the tears fell.

Feliciano was stressed- to have to fully admit that he was, for lack of a better word, being harassed by several people in the camps was distressing. It made it a harsher reality, to finally admit it, realize the seriousness of the situation. Ivan was practically interrogating him about it too, which was only raising his stress levels further.

Ivan sighed, feeling another twist in his chest, and stood, gently wiping the tears from Feliciano's cheeks with his fingers. Feliciano's eyes slid shut for a few moments, and he leaned into the touch, making Ivan pause and turn a bit pink himself, confused by the action. The general abruptly pulled away, turning around and walking.

"We will discuss this later. For now, I must train you," Ivan said, stepping further into the clearing. A shaky Feliciano followed along, his cheeks still slightly pink from where Ivan had gently brushed his tears away.

Ivan really wasn't as heartless as everyone thought he was…

Feliciano's wings were fluttering- much like his heart was starting to.

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**A/N: Sorry for the long wait on the update! Things got busier than anticipated. But we all know I'm terrible at sticking to a schedule, right?**

**How was it? Drop a review?**


	8. Love and War

**A/N: I apologize for the lateness- college and everything has been holding me up. I don't have anything of real interest to say today, aha~ So I'll get right to replies and then the story.**

**Also, some of you have probably noticed that I always reply to reviews right before an update- so if I haven't replied to most reviews, then I probably haven't updated yet! It just helps me to reply right before updates, for bookkeeping purposes.**

**Also, ****if you are going to review as an anon, please use a name other than "Guest"! There are too many of you named "Guest" and I don't know how to distinguish between you all in the replies.**

**Review Replies:**

**111fun: Oh, si! Anonymous reviews are usually responded to in the author's notes, since I want to reply to everyone, but I can only do that for anons through the author's notes. So don't worry, I am definitely getting your reviews~!**

**Guest: I'm glad you were happy to see the update~ I hope you enjoy this one, too.**

**Guest: Aha, take a look at this chapter.**

**Guest: I'm happy you're enjoying it, but don't worry, here's a new chapter to help tide you over a bit~! I know the pains of reading stories that are in-progress, too. I'm so happy you enjoy my fics!**

**Pandora: Aaah ;u; You seem so sweet! Love you too, dear!**

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"That's enough for today," Ivan hummed, turning to look back at Feliciano, who was an exhausted mess behind him. Feliciano was worn and tired, sweaty and covered with debris from his various crash-landings. Luckily for him, any wounds he'd earned he could just heal, so his training wouldn't be impeded. "You truly are a mess. If you trained your body more often, you wouldn't be this exhausted," Ivan said next, giving Feliciano a slightly critical look.

Ivan really was a strict and harsh trainer, but… in this case, Feliciano realized that he probably needed it. Ludwig was too lax with him most of the time, and Ivan was the only trainer so far to earn his trust (besides Ludwig) _and _convince him to actually practice his flying and fighting maneuvers.

Unfortunately for Feliciano, even after an all-day training session, his flying had only marginally improved. He could at least take off properly now on a regular basis, but from there, not much else had improved in the slightest, including his steering, landings, and other more complicated movements such as loops or evasive spins.

Feliciano looked ready to tip over, his wings drooping and dragging along the ground from sheer exhaustion as he tried to catch up to Ivan.

"Wings up," Ivan ordered, out of habit, and Feliciano flinched before pulling his wings back up with some effort. Ivan noticed how Feliciano was struggling, and sighed. "You need a lot more work with your wings. I'll show you exercises to strengthen them tomorrow," he hummed.

Feliciano felt his heart sink. "Tomorrow…? But, I have to get back to the hospital wing-"

"No, you'll be training with me whenever I say. My schedule is not as flexible as yours," Ivan said sternly. He had tomorrow free, he knew that for certain, but after that, he didn't know when he'd next be able to train the Italian. It had become a top priority for him to make sure Feliciano could fend for himself and fly, something every soldier and medic should be able to do.

Feliciano felt stressed. Tired, aching, and very stressed. He wanted to get back to those in his care, wanted to get back to the hospital wing and familiar work and healing, something he was actually _useful _for. He didn't want to do nothing but train and see himself fail repeatedly every time he tried to do something seemingly so easy, something that everyone else in the world could do without a problem.

He knew he wasn't alone, that there were others in the world who were fluffwings just like him- but still, being the only one he knew made the experience seem much more lonely.

He just wished he was normal.

"You'll grow out of it," he'd been reassured countless times. But would he really? He knew some fluffwings turned out to just be "late bloomers" who eventually outgrew the downy wings and had their proper feathers grow in after a molt- but he'd been alive over two-thousand years now.

If he hadn't outgrown them by now, he probably wasn't ever going to.

He didn't realize tears were running down his face until Ivan was brushing those tears away.

"-ciano?"

Feliciano snapped out of his daze, realizing he'd gotten too lost in his tired, distressed thoughts, and ended up making himself cry.

Ivan was giving him a steady but strangely unreadable look, but despite the lack of emotion on his face, the gentleness of his touches betrayed his concern. His fingers were brushing against Feliciano's cheeks again, wiping the tears away.

Feliciano turned pink and stepped back, heart pounding as he realized he'd started crying. "D-Dispiace, I- er, I zoned out-" he stammered, rubbing his eyes firmly to try and get the tears out of them and return to some façade of normalcy. He quickly gave his general an apologetic smile, before trying to perk himself up.

Ivan didn't believe it.

"Have I… pushed you too far? Done something wrong?" Ivan asked slowly, gaze cast aside. He felt that odd twist in his chest again, and he _really_ was starting to despise it. It felt like a poison in his chest, a weight, sinking, triggered whenever the Italian seemed to be upset, or injured.

Feliciano quickly shook his head. "N-No! It wasn't that at all! I just, I zoned out, like I said, and I ended up thinking of sad things, which is silly, because I really shouldn't be, and I should be focusing on my work and training and-"

"Feliciano."

"-sorry."

Ivan sighed. Feliciano really did ramble when he was stressed, and it was a dead giveaway.

"Come. Let's get you cleaned up," Ivan eventually said, turning away and leading the way back to the showers. Feliciano followed quietly, and his wings ended up trailing along the ground behind him from his exhaustion, not having the energy to pull the wings up taut against his back like they usually were. Ivan could hear them dragging on the ground, and it irritated him, and he ordered again, "Wings _up_, Feliciano."

The sound stopped.

Ivan felt that twist in his chest again.

He hadn't felt guilt like this in a long time, and lately, it had really started to irritate him. He had built his defenses, these mental walls, to stop caring for others, so that in turn, he could not be harmed by them. To care for someone meant to give that person the power to hurt him.

And he'd learned from the past that he didn't want to ever feel that pain again.

Yet, despite that, the pitiful fluffwing behind him had somehow already started to coax that horrid emotion from him again.

He wanted to hate that, but part of him didn't.

Feliciano had been unusually silent for the last few minutes, and Ivan glanced back, seeing that Feliciano was wiping tears from his cheeks again.

What on earth…?

"Feliciano, you are crying again. What is it?" Ivan stopped, giving Feliciano another steady look, but this time, the smallest frown was on his lips.

"Sorry! Sorry, I… I'm just… tired," Feliciano answered rather lamely, not wanting to speak about everything plaguing him. Ivan regarded him a moment, before placing a hand atop Feliciano's head, stroking his hair like one might pet a cat. Feliciano turned a bright red, both flustered and confused. "I… huh?"

"You did well today," Ivan praised softly. "Do not seem so disheartened."

Feliciano's tired wings fluttered, and his entire body relaxed, a watery smile on his lips.

"Grazie."

Ivan felt the twist in his chest disappear.

* * *

"I can't get this twig out of my feathers," Feliciano whined as he settled back down on the bed. Ivan and Feliciano had both showered up and had dinner, and were now settling and getting ready to sleep. Feliciano, however, was still struggling to preen his feathers.

Ivan reached over and plucked the twig out, before tossing it into a small wastebin in the corner of his tent. "There."

"Grazie," Feliciano hummed, before quietly returning to preening himself. Ivan returned to his paperwork at his desk, while Feliciano waited on the bed, still fixing up his wings. He shed his clothes and left his boxers on, before curling up on his side of the bed, all tidied up and ready to sleep. "Are you coming to bed soon…?" he asked softly, blushing slightly at how domestic that sounded. He draped the tip of a wing over his face to hide the blush.

"I still have a lot to complete," Ivan hummed in reply. "Go ahead and sleep."

"Promise this time you won't fall asleep in your chair again."

Ivan sighed. "I promise, Feliciano."

Feliciano pouted and regarded Ivan for a moment, before sighing and settling down, shutting his eyes.

He wondered how his big brother was doing…

* * *

Lovino landed swiftly and tucked in his Tuscan-red, osprey-type wings, the large and long wings perfectly shaped for fast travel. He was the fastest of the three Italian brothers, and very proud of the fact. (Valente, better known as the principality of Seborga, had emerald-green bluebird-type wings.)

"I swear to god if that bastard tries to pull another stunt today I'm blasting his wings right off," Lovino growled, landing outside his current base encampment, on the northern front. The human general here got on his nerves, and he was so sick of having to deliver messages from here to there and every other F.F. encampment in Europe. Hell, he'd had to fly across the sea once to deliver to the United Kingdom, and that had not been a kind flight at all.

It was his job as a messenger, being one of the fastest fliers around, but even so, it meant he had to deal with far too many people he didn't like.

He made his way through the encampment over to the general's quarters, scroll in hand. He'd just exchanged message bags with Heracles an hour's flight from here, and after sorting through them, he picked out the message meant for the general and marched in.

"Oi, bastard. I have a message for you," Lovino called, not much caring for politeness when this human refused to show him some respect. Lovino _really _wished he didn't have to constantly hide his identity as a nation or he would've already put this human in his place, but for the time being he just decided to make the general's life as difficult as possible while he was around.

The general looked up from his desk and sighed at him. He was a tall, thin man, but older than most of the other higher-ups, making him even more stubborn. "Not you again," he grumbled, before holding out his hand impatiently for the scroll. "This is from…?"

"Russian bastard down south. Braginski," Lovino huffed, remembering that his brother had been placed in Ivan's corps. "From the sounds of it, something went wrong on the battlefield, four thousand were wounded."

The general's face became grim. "How many deaths?"

Lovino hummed. "My little brother's the head medic down there. Absolutely none. So hurry up and take this message so I can get on with my night," he said, tossing the message rather carelessly at the general just to frustrate him more, before heading out.

Just as he finally arrived back at his tent, message back filled with letters slung over his shoulder, he heard a voice call him.

"Lovino!" barked a familiar, and irritatingly _German_ voice, making the Italian freeze in his tracks.

"Fuck," Lovino muttered under his breath, before turning about and folding his arms. "The hell do you want, potato bastard?"

"You're back with the deliveries, correct? I'd like my letters," Ludwig said as he approached. The German was clad in his immaculately clean and orderly uniform. Ludwig was also a lieutenant general, although he still ranked below the human general leading this group.

"Can't you wait until morning like everyone else?"

"I'm very much aware that if I do, you'll likely burn your brother's letter to me. I'd rather have it before you get the chance," Ludwig said sternly, and Lovino rolled his eyes but pulled out a pale blue envelope, thrusting it into the German's hand before heading into his tent.

Lovino really hated his luck- he ended up being stuck with that irritating human he had to report to, as well as Ludwig, who he still held a lot of resentment for due to various reasons (many of which he would refuse to tell anyone, or sometimes deny).

But for now, he settled down and quickly sorted out any messages and letters in the bag, before picking up another pale blue envelope- a letter from Feliciano for him.

Feliciano always used pale blue envelopes, they stuck out from the rest of the white or tan ones.

_Ciao, fratello!_

_I hope you're being nice to Ludi. I know you don't like him, but really, he's not that bad! I wish you'd give him a chance. It's been ages since all that stuff happened!_

Lovino snorted. "Fat chance."

_Anyway, I've been here a few weeks now, and so far things are alright! A lot of our men came back injured recently, though, but they should be okay. I got them all healed and everyone's taking care of the rest. _

_Ivan's personally been giving me a lot of training. He's trying to make sure I learn how to fly- he thinks I can really learn, fratello! He thinks I can be a really strong flier if I keep trying. I don't think so, but I don't want to let him down, either. I've let everyone down enough with these useless wings of mine, so I'm gonna try hard! Even though his training methods are a bit brutal, I think I'll make it. He was kind of scary at first, but you know, he's actually not so bad! He can be super sweet sometimes, although I don't think he realizes it. He's a lot like Lud, being like that. Scary on the outside but nice on the inside!_

Lovino stared in blank shock for a few moments, re-reading that paragraph a few times. Ivan was personally training his little brother? His methods were "brutal"? And Feliciano was calling him _super sweet?_

He smacked his forehead and groaned. "God dammit, Feliciano, why do you always get involved with those kinds of bastards?" he muttered, irritated with his brother's choice of company. He was tempted to ignore the rest of the letter, but read it anyway.

_Anyway… it's getting cold here, too. Winter's coming soon. Over a year and this war is still going on… I'm really tired of it, fratello. I hate seeing people coming back hurt, or even dead. I hope it ends soon… I want to go home with you and live in peace again._

Lovino faltered, setting the letter down for a moment, giving a long sigh. Peace sounded wonderful. Being able to return to the comfort of their homes and to everyday life, not worrying about battles and deaths and pushing back enemy lines- it all sounded heavenly, to everyone.

It also meant not having to fight against Antonio anymore.

He turned a bright red at the thought and shook his head, clearing his mind before looking down at the letter again.

_I'll be working hard. You work hard too, okay, fratello? Is my feather still on your necklace? I can send another one if you need it. But until we get to come home to each other again, we'll have to do our best to win!_

_Love,_

_Feliciano_

Lovino sighed. He really wished this war would just be over. He reached under his uniform and gently tugged out his feather necklace- almost everyone had one, hidden under their shirts.

It was tradition- for loved ones, family members, to give each other a feather to place on that necklace. It was a token that was meant to say, "May you always come home to me safely." On his necklace were a few feathers- one of Feliciano's, one of Valente's, one of Alice (Belgium's), and one of Antonio's- feathers of all the people he wanted to return to.

Antonio…

He sighed once more.

He hated fighting in a war against Antonio.

As much as he tried to hide it, it was rather obvious to the world that the two were in love- and it flustered the Italian to be teased about it whenever they were together. But now, he _almost_ would admit that he just wanted nothing more than for the war to be over so he could openly go see his boyfriend again.

For now…

For now…

* * *

Antonio was doing something stupid.

Namely, trying to sneak into enemy camps unseen. He had to do this quickly, or he might ruin everything- both for himself, and for his men back at his own camps. He'd flown all the way up north, even though he shouldn't have been far from the southern front where his group was battling (against Ivan Braginski's forces, no less).

And he didn't have time- he'd have to drop his letter off, and then make the flight back to his own camps if he didn't want to be caught. He could certainly get in major trouble for this, even be suspected of treason- he needed to do this quickly. He cloaked himself, before finding the tent he was looking for, slipping his letter inside, and then quickly fleeing.

There was no time.

He knew his love was right there, probably sorting letters and messages- but he couldn't go see him in person.

It was too risky, too dangerous for them both, especially right in the middle of the camps.

As soon as he'd run a far enough distance from the camps to not be seen, Antonio spread his large wings and flew. He had the wings of short-toed eagle, coincidentally his country's national bird. (Although, he'd always suspected that perhaps that bird had been chosen as homage to him). His wings were an earthy color, chocolate on the top, while being tan and striped with red on the undersides. It was a more unusual coloration than most people's wings, but he'd always been fond of them.

He flew fast, giving one last wistful glance back at the camps he was fleeing.

If only he could spare more than just a letter for his love…

* * *

Feliciano woke up, pressed close to Ivan, one of his wings draped over the other man. He turned a bright red, carefully moving his wing off of Ivan's body and tucking it right up to his back, hoping Ivan hadn't had a chance to notice.

To cover one with a wing was a protective, sometimes possessive gesture- he didn't want to be caught doing it in his sleep! He was cuddly, often draping a wing over any bedmates he had just for the sake of snuggling close and keeping warm- but Ivan might not see it that way, so he hoped it hadn't been obvious.

It was actually rather surprising for the Italian to find himself awake before Russia- usually the other man was up much earlier than he was. He sleepily lifted his head, looking around and trying to gauge what time it was, before deciding it was much too early and setting his head back down for more sleep. Instead of getting rest, though, he instead ended up studying Ivan's face more closely, now that he had the chance. Ivan's face was relaxed in his sleep, missing its usual sternness and firmness- now he seemed strangely peaceful, almost child-like, one hand by his face with the fingers lightly curled, lips parted very slightly, brow relaxed and jaw slightly slack.

Feliciano smiled slightly to himself. Ivan looked rather cute like this! Although, he tried not to giggle- Ivan would probably _not_ be amused at being called "cute", of all things. It was just amusing, to see someone that most people considered so stern and intimidating, and see them so relaxed and peaceful, innocent, the complete opposite of how they were perceived.

Feeling slightly compelled to do so, Feliciano leaned forward and gently kissed the other man's forehead, smiling and giggling when he saw Ivan curl up slightly in response, actually shifting closer to him. "You seem like a child, when you sleep…" he murmured softly, more to himself than to Ivan. He settled back down, still a bit sleepy, and shut his eyes again, softly humming an old tune, and lulling himself back to sleep.

Ivan opened his eyes a few moments after Feliciano fell back asleep, an amused, but also slightly confused, look on his face.

"A child? I think you fit the bill more for that, malyutka," he murmured, looking over Feliciano before slowly sitting up and stretching, standing and starting to get dressed and ready for his day. Feliciano, however, was still curled up to Russia, and as the other man tried to get up, Feliciano clung tightly and tried to snuggle along, following him to stay warm. The Russian sighed and firmly rolled Feliciano over so that he couldn't follow him out of bed, and watched as the Italian curled up and wrapped himself in his wings for more warmth before his sleep became still and peaceful once more.

He was admittedly rather surprised to wake up to feel lips gently being pressed to his forehead. It was startling, very confusing- but he'd continued to carefully feign sleep so that Feliciano wouldn't realize he was awake. He was curious to see what the other nation had been up to- but apparently all he'd done was wake up a bit, muse over his sleeping appearance, and then gone back to sleep.

But why kiss his forehead? Did he really look that child-like?

Ivan would have pouted, if he wasn't busy making sure he looked stern and proper for the upcoming meeting.

Feliciano continued to sleep peacefully now, only giving a small whimper as he subconsciously registered the loss of the other man's warmth. Ivan looked over at the pitiful sound, before sighing softly and gently running his fingers through Feliciano's hair. The touch seemed to calm the Italian, hushing his whimpers, and so he continued to gently stroke, for a few more moments, before completely moving away from the bed and starting to get dressed.

"You are certainly a strange one," he found himself saying about Feliciano once more, before shaking his head and getting to work, leaving Feliciano to his own agenda.

When Feliciano woke about an hour later, to an empty bed, he felt strangely disheartened, and hauled himself out of bed, getting dressed into clean scrubs before debating whether or not to have breakfast- maybe he could run into the other Nations, so he wouldn't have to sit alone and be vulnerable. He wanted to avoid having a growling stomach all morning, so in the end he decided to head to the mess hall for some food.

To his luck, no one decided to play any pranks on him or set spells on him- but a few people jeered at him nonetheless. He tried his best to ignore them, tucking his wings in close for safety. After getting some food onto his tray, he settled at the Nations' table, glad to see that Feliks and Arthur were already there and eating.

"Buongiorno~!" he greeted, before starting to eat. Feliks perked up and smiled, greeting him in return, while Arthur merely mumbled a quick reply, still studying his spellbook.

"Morning, Feli! Good to see you actually eating breakfast today," Feliks teased, aware that Feliciano often either slept in or ended up skipping breakfast. Feliciano laughed and blushed, nodding.

"Si, I'm really hungry, especially after all the training I had yesterday…" he hummed, before looking over at Arthur curiously. "Artie, you should really put the book away for once. You're eating, you know," he pouted, worriedly. "You're going to overwork yourself if you don't stop studying."

Arthur sighed and shut the book, his midnight-black raven-type wings giving an agitated flap before tucking themselves to his back. (The color was very peculiar- it seemed black, but in the glint of light, it was obvious that his wings were in fact a very _dark_ violet.) "We're in the middle of a war, Feliciano. And I'm being sent out with the next group. I really need to make sure I have everything I need at hand," he replied, before focusing more on his food. Feliciano instantly tensed, biting his lip.

"You're going out with the next group…? What day?"

"Thursday." Three days from now, then.

"Be careful, okay?" Feliciano asked anxiously, before turning to Feliks. "Are you going out with them, too?" Feliks shook his head.

"Nah, I'm still looking out here. I'm part of the defensive group," Feliks replied.

Feliciano felt a bit relieved to hear that, and calmed down, although he was still worried for their head mage. Arthur didn't seem to be too fazed or worried though, despite what his serious words from a minute before had suggested. As for Feliks, he was calm as ever, knowing that all he had to do was be ready to fight if the camp itself was ever attacked (which, to be honest, was likely to happen at least once, if not multiple times, before the war ended).

But suddenly, he felt a terrible aching, in his chest. It felt like pain, sorrow, heartbreak, _longing_…

He didn't realize there were tears running down his face until Arthur suddenly realized it.

"Feliciano? Are you alright?"

The Italian's hands were trembling, and one rested shakily over his feather necklace, fingers holding a red feather in particular.

"Fratello… m-my fratello, he's… he's upset…" he murmured.

To feel Lovino this upset… he wondered what had happened.

* * *

**A/N: And that's it for now~! We're slowly starting to get into the other Nations, so from here on out we'll be seeing more and more of the nations on different fronts around the world.**

**Thanks for reading!**

**Drop a review?**


	9. Warmth

**A/N: Okay, I apologize right off the bat- it's been over three months, and for that I apologize. Last semester was truly a difficult one, and I spent most of my time either doing homework, studying, or otherwise occupied, so I didn't have too much time to write.**

**On the bright side, it's now summer vacation, so hopefully I'll be able to get back into the swing of things without too much issue. Thanks to everyone who waited and continued to read this fic! **

**Again, if you are reviewing anonymously, please use a DIFFERENT NAME THAN "GUEST". There are too many "guests" for me to reply to, and I don't know how to distinguish you all in the reply sections, and I definitely want to give each of you a proper reply! ;u;**

**Review replies**:

**Guest: I'm sorry you had to beg for it! But I can't help being busy, you know? I'll try hard, though!**

**ShadowEmpireNeko: I'm really glad you're enjoying the fic so far! Feli's definitely had a lot of teasing to face growing up, but luckily for him he has people around that love him regardless.**

**Guest # 2 who sent the "UPDATE OR I WILL SET BELARUS ON YOU" etc message: While I appreciate that you're excited about the story, I am not going to hesitate to say that this kind of message is **_**really demanding, obnoxious, and kind of rude**_** and makes me want to do the **_**exact opposite of updating.**_** In the future, please don't leave these kinds of messages.**

**MolliCrassweller: I'm so happy you're enjoying it! Thanks so much for sharing it with others, it makes me feel rather excited when people want to share my fics.**

**YourNameHere: Glad to hear you're enjoying the progession~! Thanks for the patience!**

**111fun: Aha, I hope you do remember to make an account some time. I'm glad you liked the last chapter, I hope this one is just as good!**

**Guest #3: I'm really glad you enjoyed the cuter aspects of the chapter, and I hope that I can continue to make these two's relationships progress well!**

**GuestHasAnArmy: Aha, I like this name, it's clever! As for Liet, I think I placed him somewhere on the northern front! He's still recovering from his wound, though- it was only briefly mentioned in chapter three, I think.**

**On to the story!**

* * *

Lovino was so tempted to set everything in sight on fire- but in the end, once he'd finished throwing things around, he slid down onto the earth and clutched at his hair, leaning back against the baseboard of his bed, a letter lying on the floor a few feet in front of him. It had been from Antonio- he'd only found it this morning, when he was about to leave his tent. It had been lying on the floor just inside the flap of his tent, as if it had been hastily snuck there, and he noticed the red envelope instantly. Antonio always used red envelopes.

_Mi tesoro,_

_ It's become too dangerous, for me to come see you like I used to. To meet up like we have been- if we get caught, it could mean devastating pain for us both, and I don't want to risk you getting hurt any longer. I know you'll be angry with me- but I won't be coming up to meet with you anymore, not until this war is finally over, for better or for worse._

_ Please promise me that you'll stay safe- I wish I could be by your side, amor, to protect you. I know, I know, you don't think you need my protection, and you're right! But I still want to be able to keep you safe- call it silly if you like. But it's better, if we stay safe and put in our own camps, with our own troops. It'll be less risky, and we'll avoid the chance of being labeled traitors… And who knows what kind of punishment we might get? Humans wouldn't understand…_

_ I hope we can see each other soon, Lovino. This will probably be the last letter I can send you- sending letters across enemy lines is nearly impossible, and I can't risk sneaking over anymore to send them. I hope that this war ends quickly- and regardless of who wins, I hope we get the chance to see each other unharmed at the end._

_ Con mucho amor,_

_ Antonio_

So this was it, then… Antonio wasn't going to be seeing him anymore. No more visits, no more letters- he'd just have to hope through word of mouth that he'd get to hear once in a while if Antonio was alright.

Lovino was both furious and relieved, and it was causing him to be a bit overwhelmed with confusing emotions. He'd warned Antonio, when this all started- that it was dangerous to meet up like they had been! It was too dangerous to risk being caught and risk the consequences, but at the same time, he too had been worried, and had wanted to see his lover despite the boundaries set by war. He was relieved, now, that they would at least both quit taking the risks of seeing each other, but he was absolutely furious as well- how _dare_ he make that decision without at least consulting him first!? He had say in it, didn't he?

He slumped down onto his bed and buried his face in his hands, before quickly setting fire to the letter in his hands, watching as it burned and turned to ashes in his palm.

Now the evidence was gone, at least…

…and he ought to get back to work. Messages to deliver, after all.

The least he could do was keep working hard- it might make the difference between a victory or defeat in their battles, the win or loss of an entire war.

* * *

Feliciano wiped away his tears, giving a few soft sniffles. Whatever had upset Lovino had _really_ gotten him worked up, if even he could feel the same stress.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Arthur asked, still mildly confused. "You burst into tears out of nowhere."

"I-It's not me! It's my brother, he's upset, so I feel it too," Feliciano murmured, as explanation, before sighing and poking at his food. His mood had plummeted considerably, and he didn't quite feel like eating at the moment. A hand on his shoulder made him look up, though, to find Ivan looking down at him with a focused, slightly concerned gaze.

"If you are… not going to eat, perhaps we should get back to training? It may be the last day I have for a while to do so," Ivan suggested, although his stance indicated that it was more of an order than anything. Feliciano knew he couldn't skip or worm his way out of training with Ivan, not like he'd managed to with Ludwig.

Feliciano nodded and stood, and after waving goodbye to Feliks and Arthur, put away his tray and followed Ivan out to the training grounds that had been set aside for him, that clearing he was getting more and more familiar with.

His wings dragged along the ground slightly as he walked, and Ivan scolded him for it numerous times on the way there. Feliciano protested in response, "But my wings and back are sore… from yesterday! You're not giving me any chance to recover at all!"

Ivan would only say back, "The more you push yourself, the stronger you will become."

And it would make Feliciano pout and follow along, although sometimes he'd venture to whack Ivan's wing with his own as a bit of childish "revenge." Ivan never seemed to take it seriously, luckily, and would always bat at him back, and sometimes they'd have a small "battle" of their wings on the way to and from the clearing where they trained.

It always made Feliciano laugh, and it would perk him up. Even Ivan seemed amused with it, and would crack a small smile whenever Feliciano wasn't watching- except, this time, Feliciano caught it.

"You're smiling," the Italian chirped, hopping a bit beside Ivan as if trying to get on a more even level to better see the curve of his lips.

"And if I am?"

"You like to play, too," Feliciano replied, smiling a little, glad to know that Ivan was a bit relaxed under all those rules and orders and serious appearances.

Ivan hummed and then wrapped a wing around Feliciano, drawing him in close, but also wrapping up Feliciano's wings, to keep them still. "Just hold still and come along. You're slowing us down," Ivan said, looking straight ahead as he steered Feliciano to the clearing. Feliciano felt himself turning scarlet, his own wings quivering a bit in the hold of Ivan's wing, since he knew full well that this type of hold was very, _very_ intimate. And he _knew_ that Ivan knew this, because everyone knew it, and you don't just wrap _anyone_ up in your wing, and yet…

Feliciano quit his fooling around and snuggled up to Ivan's side, cheeks red. Ivan made no more movements other than to continue walking and leading him along- no other signs of affection, nothing. But he did not withdraw his wing, and it was keeping the Italian feeling warm and safe in its embrace. However, it was also keeping Feliciano rather confused- Ivan was sending a lot of mixed signals and he had no idea what to make of it.

Was he just trying to be friendly?

Upon arriving in the center of the clearing, Ivan turned to him and withdrew his wing, before folding his arms and ordering, "Give me ten laps, to warm your wings up." Feliciano deflated immediately, already knowing this was going to be a long day. Ten laps for anyone else was a breeze, but for Feliciano it was a hard struggle just to stay up in the air without losing control of his flight. Nonetheless, he sighed and lifted his wings, before beating them down just how Ivan had taught him, and taking off.

He struggled to fly around the clearing in steady loops, his flight rather erratic considering the weakness of his flight skills. He had the strength to keep himself up, yes, but the steering would always be an issue for him, considering his lack of the flight feathers he needed. After only three loops, he lost control and crashed into the earth again, groaning before lifting himself up and looking over at Ivan.

"Start over," he said with a hum, and Feliciano's face fell.

"Che?"

"Start over. Now."

Feliciano was not going to have a good day.

After three more failures to complete the full ten laps, Ivan sighed and shook his head, before picking Feliciano back up and giving him a stern look. "You are not paying attention to your wings at all," he scolded, before shaking his head again when Feliciano seemed even more confused. "In order to fly, you must constantly be aware of how air is moving over, under, and through your wings. If you do not pay attention to those things, how do you expect to be able to move your wings in a way that favors strong flight?"

It dawned on Feliciano what Ivan meant- for others, it was second nature to do such things. But for Feliciano, who had never been a strong flier, nor learned how to properly do so, he'd never done that sort of constant analysis of his flying and wing movements. He nodded, and said, "Si! Si, I'll try again." He was a bit excited now, determined to improve and become a strong flier like his friends and family.

Takeoff after takeoff, crash after crash- Feliciano was slowly, but surely getting better, and he was starting to get the hang of feeling the air as it moved around his wings, and learning to adjust his movements to better stabilize and coordinate his flight. It was long and tiring work, but soon enough he was starting to really get used to it, and it was making his heart swell in hopeful joy as he would achieve longer and more stable flights each time.

When Feliciano finally finished his ten laps, he alighted in front of Ivan, his landing a bit unsteady, but still good. He looked up at Ivan with bright eyes, panting from exertion, seeking some kind of acknowledgement for his hard work, his achievement.

Ivan smiled at him, and rested a large, but gentle, hand on his head, stroking his hair in silent praise, which in turn made Feliciano's cheeks light up pink, and his white wings flutter and lift up in delight.

"You have done well, malyutka," he hummed, a soft smile on his lips. "Perhaps today we will make a lot more progress than before. If you are conscious of the way you move through the air, the way you cut through it- then you will be able to continue improving, to truly fly just like any other."

"Even though my wings are-"

"Even so," Ivan assured him, even interrupting him by placing a few fingers on Feliciano's lips to quiet him down. The Italian standing before him turned a bit redder and pouted under his fingers, not liking having been silenced. He opened his mouth to speak, but Ivan only hushed him again, lips curving into a little smirk now, apparently amused with Feliciano's reactions and trying to have fun with him.

Ivan was playing again- his form of messing around. The realization of that made Feliciano's indignant huffiness dissipate a little, at least enough to not get too worked up about all the teasing.

Feliciano tried again to speak, nudging aside Ivan's fingers, only to have the fingers of Ivan's other hand come to quiet him again. He turned scarlet at Ivan's victorious, amused smirk, but then decided to fight back differently- he kissed the fingers on his lips, and that suddenly make Ivan's usually composed expression change into one of shock, as his fingers pulled away. This time, Feliciano was the one to laugh last, giggling a little at the way even Ivan Braginski's cheeks were turning red, something that was rather easy to see considering Ivan's pale complexion.

"I win~!" Feliciano said, completely forgetting about training as he hopped backwards a bit and started to run across the clearing, leaving Ivan a bit confused and still stunned.

Ivan watched Feliciano run, and noticed immediately that despite his clumsiness with his wings, Feliciano was rather swift and graceful on his feet. That was unsurprising, since Feliciano hadn't been able to fly well, and he'd have to likely spend most of his time on foot instead of in the air. But Feliciano was _fast_, even with his large wings supposedly holding him back, and Ivan quickly spread his wings and started to fly very low to the ground, fast, cutting through the air to chase after Feliciano.

The Italian turned around at the sight of flapping wings and squeaked at the sight of Ivan chasing after him- although to be honest, he'd been intending for Ivan to chase. He didn't want to train right now, he felt too happy to, so he was trying to lure Ivan into a game of tag.

Of sorts.

Ivan was already flying after him, inches from grabbing the back of his shirt, but Feliciano suddenly stopped on a dime and fell to the ground on purpose, dodging Ivan's touch as his general flew past him in surprise. Ivan quickly flapped his wings backwards to stop himself, turning around to see Feliciano standing and grinning at him.

Ivan raised an eyebrow.

Oh, is _that_ what he's trying to do.

Ivan didn't turn down the challenge, though, and flew after him again, making Feliciano perk up in delight before bolting all over again. They spent a good after chasing after each other, Ivan in the air and Feliciano on his feet, and Ivan learned quite a number of surprising and _interesting_ things.

Feliciano's stamina running was _astounding_- even though he couldn't fly well or for long, his coordination on land was strong, even with the imbalance of heavy wings to account for. He was agile, flexible, able to perform various acrobatics despite the bulk of his wings. And because of that, he was easily able to dodge Ivan's attempts to grab him.

_Feliciano could fight grounded._

In a world where most relied on wings, not many people were capable of such prowess on the ground unless they were trained to do so, or otherwise focused specifically on growing their skills in that respect. But Feliciano hadn't had much of a _choice_ but to learn to be agile on the earth- since his skills with flight were so weak. It was giving Ivan ideas, and ideas that perhaps Feliciano wouldn't be fond of…

But this type of ground-fighter could be very, very useful in forested terrain.

Yes, he knew Feliciano was a medic, and a strong one at that, but someone with this skill could easily take out dozens in advantageous terrain. If only Feliciano knew enough offensive protective spells! And how to fight in close combat as well.

Ivan stopped his chasing and landed, knowing now that along with flight training, he'd have to train Feliciano in hand-to-hand combat, show him the strongest offensive spells, teach him ways to defend himself. If a medic couldn't fight, if a medic couldn't protect themselves, then they could be a huge liability to the rest of the group, and he refused to let Feliciano become that weak link.

He no longer wanted Feliciano to be the one the crueler humans would taunt, he no longer wanted Feliciano to be the one who was most likely to be harmed by both friend and foe alike. He would make Feliciano strong, and he would show Feliciano that he had worth, that his wings wouldn't define him as a being.

Feliciano paused in confusion when he realized that Ivan was no longer chasing him, and seemed mildly disappointed. Was their little game over already? Ivan waved him over, and he trotted over a bit nervously, unsure if he had done something wrong, or if there was just something important Ivan needed to tell him. Ivan looked him over steadily once Feliciano was in front of him, looming a good foot taller over Feliciano and making Feliciano feel very, very small.

"You are very agile on your feet, malyutka," Ivan hummed after a long silence, musing aloud, seeming thoughtful. Feliciano released a breath he didn't know he'd been holding, glad to see that what awaited him was not a scolding, but praise instead. "In fact… if you were better trained in combat, you could easily outmaneuver others in the terrain of very thick forest, something that we are luckily in abundance of near the battlefields."

Feliciano's face paled as he realized where this was going, and Ivan noticed.

"…I realize you are not a fighter at heart. But I will train you so that you are at least capable of better defending yourself, both in the air and on the ground. And it starts with hand-to-hand combat." Ivan took a fighting stance, and Feliciano responded by taking a few steps backwards out of fear. Ivan was huge compared to him, and Feliciano felt like even in training, he had no chance in any spar against him. But at the same time, he realized that he was going to be forcibly trapped.

Ivan chanted a few words under his breath and moments later, a ring of massive, icy spikes erupted from the earth, forming an effective "barrier" around the perimeter of the clearing they were training it. Feliciano likely wouldn't be able to get out of there very easily, without catching one of his clumsy wings onto an icy thorn, and he knew it. His wings quivered behind him.

That was rather powerful magic… but he didn't expect much less out of the lieutenant general. Ivan had tremendous magic reserves on top of his strength and speed- all around, he was just a good warrior, one not to be messed with. Feliciano's magic reserves were just as strong, but he devoted it all to healing, and as a result, wasn't nearly as prepared for magical warfare as he should be. Physical combat could only take one so far nowadays, especially with more and more nations focusing on building their strength and pouring training effort into mages.

"I will teach you spells, and I will teach you more martial arts- but you must focus, or you will not be able to advance in any way. Be mindful of your wings, your energy, your surroundings. I will make this much more difficult as we go along," Ivan instructed, seriousness in his tone and expression. His stance was strong, one that said he wasn't going to tolerate nonsense or Feliciano trying to worm his way out of training.

And with that, Feliciano let out a long, shaky breath, before charging forward.

* * *

It was roughly around seven at night, the skies were already darkening thanks to the fall's progression into winter. Feliciano's feathers (along with some of Ivan's) were scattered all over the field, signs of destruction and strife marking the soil all around. From small craters to scorch marks, ice spikes and flooded areas, the entire area seemed a wreck compared to how it had started in the morning.

It had been a long, tiring day.

Ivan was still training Feliciano, insisting that they keep going- but Feliciano was at his limit. He was starting to feel dizzy, his vision blurring from exhaustion, not even having much energy left to heal some of the wounds on him, let alone fight.

Ivan seemed rather roughed up as well, but he wasn't nearly in as bad a shape as Feliciano. Ivan was stronger, more suited to combat, and he hadn't suffered too much in comparison to the small Italian he was training.

Feliciano was holding on to his shoulder, which had been struck a few minutes earlier, and he took a few steps forward, staggering, before stopping and swaying.

He fell unconscious on his feet, beginning to fall. But Ivan's attention was keen, and he knew Feliciano was going to pass out the moment he saw Feliciano's eyes starting to roll back- and he took off and flew swiftly across the distance between them to catch Feliciano before he could strike the ground.

"You did well," Ivan murmured, to the weak and tired bundle in his arms, before straightening up and carrying Feliciano back to the showers. Perhaps a good washing off would help Feliciano's body recover faster, and hopefully by the time they arrived, Feliciano would have woken up again. He wasn't expecting much, though, since he knew how thoroughly Feliciano's body had been exhausted.

Feliciano's eyes fluttered open a few minutes into the walk, and the first thing he registered was that he was somewhere warm. Warm, tucked close to something firm and strong and unyielding, and that he was swaying slightly and moving. When his eyes opened further, and he realized where he was, he turned a bit pink but felt too tired to protest or complain about the fact that he was being carried.

To be honest, he didn't mind. He liked being carried, he just didn't like being carried by people he didn't trust.

But… despite his brutal training methods, Ivan was someone Feliciano trusted. It showed in the way Feliciano stayed relaxed in his arms, the way Feliciano nuzzled slightly into Ivan's chest, the way he shut his eyes again once he saw who was carrying him. Not to sleep, but simply to rest, to enjoy the warmth around him.

Ivan was admittedly startled- he'd expected Feliciano to be put off by being carried, to squirm and fuss. After all, not many people trusted him in any way! It was startling to see Feliciano so purposefully relaxed and calm in his hold, not afraid of him or his strength and power at all, despite seeing how truly destructive he could be. But when he saw how much trust Feliciano had finally put into him, he gently shifted the Italian in his hold, holding him closer and more securely.

Feliciano hummed softly and cuddled a bit in response, tired but as affectionate as ever, and finally extending that affection to Ivan.

Ivan's heart felt warm, and he hadn't felt that kind of warmth in a long, long time.

* * *

**A/N: And there it is! Again, I apologize for the long wait, and I'll be working as much as I can now that I have a ton of free time. Hopefully, I can at least update on time for the summer, before classes start up again.**

**Thanks again to everyone who's waited and read! I appreciate each and every one of you, and your reviews! They really do help me keep going! **

**Drop a review?**


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